JNIVERSITY  0    CAL  FORM  A   SAN  D  EGC 


3  1822  00161  5970 


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I      Nephi  Anderson 


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ITY  OF  CAL  FORM  A   SAN  D  EGC 


3  1822  00161  5970 


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ADDED  UPON 

I 

A  Story 


BY  NEPHI  ANDERSON 

Author  of  "The  Castle  Builder," 

"A  Daughter  of  the  North," 
"John  St.  John,"  "Romance  of  a  Missionary,"  etc. 


"And  they  who  keep  their  first  estate  shall  be  added  upon; 
. . .  .and  they  who  keep  their  second  estate  shall  have  glory 
added  upon  their  heads  for  ever  and  ever." 


TWELFTH  EDITION 


The  Deseret  News  Press 
Salt  Lake  City,  Utah 


Copyright  1898 
By  NEPHI  ANDERSON. 

Copyright  1912 
By  NEPHI  ANDERSON. 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  THIRD  EDITION. 

A  religion,  to  be  worth  while,  must  give  satis 
factory  answers  to  the  great  questions  of  life: 
What  am  I?  Whence  came  I?  What  is  the  object 
of  this  life?  and  what  is  my  destiny?  True,  we  walk 
by  faith,  and  not  by  sight,  but  yet  the  eye  of  faith 
must  have  some  light  by  which  to  see.  Added 
Upon  is  an  effort  to  give  in  brief  an  outline  of 
"the  scheme  of  things,"  "the  ways  of  God  to  men" 
as  taught  by  the  Gospel  of  Christ  and  believed  in  by 
the  Latter-day  Saints;  and  to  justify  and  praise 
these  ways,  by  a  glance  along  the  Great  Plan,  from 
a  point  in  the  distant  past  to  a  point  in  the  future — 
not  so  far  away,  it  is  to  be  hoped. 

On  subjects  where  little  of  a  definite  character 
is  revealed,  the  story,  of  necessity,  could  not  go  into 
great  detail.  It  is  suggestive  only;  but  it  is  hoped 
that  the  mind  of  the  reader,  illumined  by  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord,  will  be  able  to  fill  in  all  the  details  that 
the  heart  may  desire,  to  wander  at  will  in  the  gar 
den  of  the  Lord,  and  dwell  in  peace  in  the  mansions 
of  the  Father. 

Many  have  told  me  that  when  they  read  Added 
Upon,  it  seemed  to  have  been  written  directly  to 
them.  My  greatest  reward  is  to  know  that  the  little 
story  has  touched  a  sympathetic  chord  in  the  hearts 
of  the  Latter-day  Saints,  and  that  it  has  brought 
to  some  aching  hearts  a  little  ray  of  hope  and  con 
solation. 

Nephi  Anderson. 
Liverpool,  November  5,   1904. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIFTH  AND  ENLARGED 
EDITION. 

This  story  of  things  past,  things  present,  and 
things  to  come  has  been  before  the  Latter-day 
Saints  for  fourteen  years.  During  this  time,  it 
seems  to  have  won  for  itself  a  place  in  their  hearts 
and  in  their  literature.  A  reviewer  of  the  book 
when  it  was  first  published  said  that  "so  great  and 
grand  a  subject  merits  a  more  elaborate  treatment." 
Many  since  then  have  said  the  story  should  be 
"added  upon,"  and  the  present  enlarged  edition 
is  an  attempt  to  meet  in  a  small  way  these  demands. 
The  truths  restored  to  the  earth  through  "Mormon- 
ism"  are  capable  of  illimitable  enlargement;  and 
when  we  contemplate  these  glorious  teachings,  we 
are  led  to  exclaim  with  the  poet : 

"Wide,  and  more  wide,  the  kindling  bosom  swells, 
As  love  inspires,  and  truth  its  wonders  tells, 
The  soul  enraptured  tunes  the  sacred  lyre, 
And  bids  a  worm  of  earth  to  heaven  aspire, 
'Mid  solar  systems  numberless,  to  soar, 
The  death  of  love  and  science  to  explore." 

N.  A. 

Salt  Lake  City,  Utah, 
May,  1912. 


PART  FIRST 


"The  Lord  possessed  me  in  the  beginning  of  his  way,  before 
his  works  of  old. 

"I  was  set  up  from  everlasting,  from  the  beginning,  or  ever 
the  earth  was. 

"When  there  were  no  depths,  I  was  brought  forth;  when 
there  were  no  fountains  abounding  with  water. 

"Before  the  mountains  were  settled,  before  the  hills  was 
I  brought  forth: 

"While  as  yet  he  had  not  made  the  earth,  nor  the  fields, 
nor  the  highest  part  of  the  dust  of  the  world. 

"When  he  prepared  the  heavens,  I  was  there:  when  he  set 
a  compass  upon  the  face  of  the  depth: 

"When  he  established  the  clouds  above:  when  he  strength 
ened  the  fountains  of  the  deep: 

"When  he  gave  to  the  sea  his  decree,  that  the  waters  should 
not  pass  his  commandment:  when  he  appointed  the  founda 
tions  of  the  earth: 

"Then  I  was  by  him,  as  one  brought  up  with  him:  and  I 
was  daily  his  delight,  rejoicing  always  before  him."—  Prov. 
8:22-30. 


ADDED  UPON 


"Where  was  thou  when  I  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth? 
.  .  .  When  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  Sons 
of  God  shouted  for  joy?"— Job  38:4,7. 


The  hosts  of  heaven — sons  and  daughters  of 
God — were  assembled.  The  many  voices  mingling, 
rose  and  fell  in  one  great  murmur  like  the  rising 
and  falling  of  waves  about  to  sink  to  rest.  Then 
all  tumult  ceased,  and  a  perfect  silence  reigned. 

"Listen,"  said  one  to  another  by  his  side, 
"Father's  will  is  heard." 

A  voice  thrilled  the  multitude.  It  was  clear  as 
a  crystal  bell,  and  so  distinct  that  every  ear  heard, 
so  sweet,  and  so  full  of  music  that  every  heart 
within  its  range  beat  with  delight. 

"And  now,  children  of  God,"  were  the  words, 
"ye  have  arrived  at  a  point  in  this  stage  of  your 
development  where  a  change  must  needs  take  place. 
Living,  as  ye  have,  all  this  time  in  the  presence  of 
God,  and  under  the  control  of  the  agencies  which 
here  exist,  ye  have  grown  from  children  in  knowl 
edge  to  your  present  condition.  God  is  pleased  with 
you — the  most  of  you,  and  many  of  you  have  shown 
yourselves  to  be  spirits  of  power,  whom  He  will 


8  ADDED  UPON 

make  His  future  rulers.  Ye  have  been  taught  many 
of  the  laws  of  light  and  life,  whereby  the  universe 
is  created  and  controlled.  True,  ye  have  not  all 
advanced  alike,  or  along  the  same  lines.  Some  have 
delighted  more  in  the  harmonies  of  music,  while 
others  have  studied  the  beauties  of  God's  surround 
ing  works.  Each  hath  found  pleasure  and  profit 
in  something;  but  there  is  one  line  of  knowledge 
that  is  closed  to  you  all.  In  your  present  spiritual 
state,  ye  have  not  come  in  contact  with  the  grosser 
materials  of  existence.  Your  experiences  have  been 
wholly  within  the  compass  of  spiritual  life,  and 
there  is  a  whole  world  of  matter,  about  which  ye 
know  nothing.  All  things  have  their  opposites.  Ye 
have  partly  a  conception  of  good  and  evil,  but  the 
many  branches  into  which  these  two  principles  sub 
divide,  cannot  be  understood  by  you.  Again,  ye  all 
have  had  the  hope  given  you  that  at  some  time  ye 
would  have  the  opportunity  to  become  like  unto 
your  parents,  even  to  attain  to  a  body  of  flesh  and 
bones,  a  tabernacle  with  which  ye  may  pass  on  to 
perfection,  and  inherit  that  which  God  inherits. 
If,  then,  ye  ever  become  creators  and  rulers,  ye 
must  first  become  acquainted  with  the  existence  of 
properties,  laws,  and  organization  of  matter  other 
than  that  which  surround  you  in  this  estate. 

"To  be  over  all  things,  ye  must  have  passed 
through  all  things,  and  have  had  experience  with 
them.  It  is  now  the  Father's  pleasure  to  grant  you 
this.  Ye  who  continue  steadfast,  shall  be  added 
upon,  and  be  permitted  to  enter  the  second  estate; 
and  if  ye  abide  in  that,  ye  shall  be  further  increased 


ADDED  UPON  9 

and  enlarged  and  be  worthy  of  the  third  estate, 
where  glory  shall  be  added  upon  your  heads  forever 
and  ever. 

"Even  now,  out  in  space,  rolls  another  world — • 
with  no  definite  form,  and  void;  but  God's  Spirit  is 
there,  moving  upon  it,  and  organizing  the  elements. 
In  time,  it  will  be  a  fit  abode  for  you." 

The  voice  ceased.  Majesty  stood  looking  out 
upon  the  silent  multitude.  Then  glad  hearts  could 
contain  no  more,  and  the  children  of  God  gave  a 
great  shout  of  joy.  Songs  of  praise  and  gladness 
came  from  the  mighty  throng,  and  its  music  echoed 
through  the  realms  of  heaven! 

Then  silence  fell  once  more.  The  Voice  was 
heard  again: 

"Now,  how,  and  upon  what  principles  will  your 
salvation,  exaltation,  and  eternal  glory  be  brought 
about?  It  has  been  decided  in  the  councils  of  eter 
nity,  and  I  will  tell  you. 

"When  the  earth  is  prepared,  two  will  be  sent 
to  begin  the  work  of  begetting  bodies  for  you.  It 
needs  be  that  a  law  be  given  these  first  parents. 
This  law  will  be  broken,  thus  bringing  sin  into  the 
new  world.  Transgression  is  followed  by  punish 
ment;  and  thus  ye,  when  ye  are  born  into  the  world, 
will  come  in  contact  with  misery,  pain,  suffering, 
and  death.  Ye  will  have  a  field  for  the  exercise  of 
justice  and  mercy,  love  and  hatred.  Ye  will  suffer, 
but  your  suffering  will  be  the  furnace  through  which 
ye  will  be  tested.  Ye  will  die,  and  your  bodies  will 
return  to  the  earth  again.  Surrounded  by  earthly 
influences,  ye  will  sin.  Then,  how  can  ye  return  to 


10  ADDED  UPON 

the  Father's  presence,  and  regain  your  tabernacles? 
Hear  the  plan: 

"One  must  be  sent  to  the  earth  with  power  over 
death.  He  will  be  the  Son,  the  only  begotten  in  the 
flesh.  He  must  be  sinless,  yet  bear  the  sins  of  the 
world.  Being  slain,  He  will  satisfy  the  eternal  law 
of  justice.  He  will  go  before  and  bring  to  pass  the 
resurrection  from  the  dead.  He  will  give  unto  you 
another  law,  obeying  which,  will  free  you  from  your 
personal  sins,  and  set  you  again  on  the  way  of  eter 
nal  life.  Thus  will  your  agency  still  be  yours,  that 
ye  may  act  in  all  things  as  ye  will." 

A  faint  murmur  ran  through  the  assembly. 

Then  spoke  the  Father:  "Whom  shall  I  send?" 

One  arose,  like  unto  the  Father — a  majestic 
form,  meek,  yet  noble — the  Son;  and  thus  he  spoke: 

"Father,  here  am  I,  send  me.  Thy  will  be  done, 
and  the  glory  be  thine  forever." 

Then  another  arose.  Erect  and  proud  he  stood. 
His  eyes  flashed,  his  lip  curled  in  scorn.  Bold  in 
his  bearing,  brilliant  and  influential,  Lucifer,  the 
Son  of  the  Morning,  spoke: 

"Behold  I,  send  me.  I  will  be  thy  son,  and  I 
will  redeem  all  mankind,  that  not  one  soul  shall  be 
lost;  and  surely  I  will  do  it;  wherefore,  give  me  thine 
honor." 

Then  spoke  one  as  with  authority: 

"Lucifer,  thy  plan  would  destroy  the  agency  of 
man — his  most  priceless  gift.  It  would  take  away 
his  means  of  eternal  advancement.  Your  offer  can 
not  be  accepted." 


ADDED  UPON  11 

The  Father  looked  out  over  the  vast  throng; 
then  clearly  the  words  rang  out: 

"I  will  send  the  first!" 

But  the  haughty  spirit  yielded  not.  His  coun 
tenance  became  fiercer  in  its  anger,  and  as  he  strode 
from  the  assembly,  many  followed  after  him. 

Then  went  the  news  abroad  throughout  heaven 
of  the  council  and  the  Father's  proposed  plan;  of 
Christ's  offer,  and  Lucifer's  rebellious  actions.  The 
whole  celestial  realm  was  agitated,  and  contention 
and  strife  began  to  wage  among  the  children  of 
God. 

Returning  from  the  council  chamber  of  the 
celestial  glance  through  the  paths  of  the  surround 
ing  gardens,  came  two  sons  of  God.  Apparently, 
the  late  events  had  affected  them  greatly.  The 
assembly  had  dispersed,  and,  save  now  and  then  a 
fleeting  figure,  they  were  alone.  They  were  engaged 
in  earnest  conversation. 

"But,  Brother  Sardus,"  said  one,  "how  can  you 
look  at  it  in  that  light?  Lucifer  was  surely  in  the 
wrong.  And  then,  how  haughty  and  overbearing 
he  was." 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you,  Homan.  We  have 
a  right  to  think  and  to  act  as  we  please,  and  I  con 
sider  Lucifer  in  the  right.  Think  of  this  magnificent 
offer,  to  bring  back  in  glory  to  Father's  presence, 
every  one  of  His  children,  and  that,  too,  without 
condition  on  their  part." 

"There!  He,  and  you  with  him,  talk  about  your 
rights  to  think  and  act  as  you  please.  Have  you  not 
that  right?  Have  you  not  used  it  freely  in  refusing 


12  ADDED  UPON 

to  listen  to  Father's  counsel?  Do  not  I  exercise  it 
in  that  I  listen  and  agree  with  Him?  But  let  me 
tell  you,  brother,  what  your  reasoning  will  lead  to." 

"I  know  it — but  go  on." 

"No,  you  do  not;  you  do  not  seem  to  under 
stand." 

"Perhaps  you  will  explain,"  said  the  other 
haughtily. 

"Brother,  be  not  angry.  It  is  because  of  my 
love  for  you  that  I  speak  thus.  It  is  evident  that 
we,  in  that  future  world  of  experience  and  trial, 
will  retain  our  agencies  to  choose  between  the  oppo- 
sites  that  will  be  presented  to  us.  Without  that 
privilege,  we  should  cease  to  be  intelligences,  and 
become  as  inanimate  things.  How  could  we  be 
proved  without  this  power?  How  could  we  make 
any  progress  without  it?" 

"I  grant  it  all." 

"Then,  what  would  Lucifer  do?  He  would  save 
you  from  the  dangers  of  the  world,  whether  you 
would  or  not.  He  would  take  away  any  need  of 
volition  or  choice  on  our  part.  Do  what  we  would, 
sink  as  deep  into  sin  as  we  could,  he  would  save  us 
notwithstanding,  without  a  trial,  without  a  purging 
process,  with  all  our  sins  upon  us;  and  in  this  con 
dition  we  are  expected  to  go  on  to  perfection,  and 
become  kings  and  priests  unto  God  our  Father, 
exercising  power  and  dominion  over  our  fellow 
creatures.  Think  of  it!  Evil  would  reign  triumph 
ant.  Celestial  order  would  be  changed  to  chaos." 

The  other  said  not  a  word.  He  could  not  an 
swer  his  brother's  array  of  arguments. 


ADDED  UPON  13 

"Dear  brother,"  continued  Homan,  "never  be 
fore  have  I  received  such  sorrow  as  when  I  saw  you 
follow  that  rebellious  Son  of  Morning.  Hence 
forth  quit  his  company.  I  fear  for  him  and  his  fol 
lowers." 

"But  he  has  such  power  over  me,  Homan.  His 
eloquence  seems  to  hold  me,  and  his  arguments  cer 
tainly  convince  me.  But  I  must  go — and  brother, 
come  with  me  to  the  assembly  which  we  are  to  hold. 
Many  will  be  there  from  far  and  near.  Will  you 
come?" 

"I  cannot  promise  you,  Sardus.  Perhaps  I  may 
call  and  see  what  is  said  and  done." 

Then  they  parted. 

Homan  went  to  the  gathering  of  which  Sardus 
had  spoken,  and  as  had  been  intimated,  he  met  many 
strange  faces.  Everywhere  in  the  conversation, 
serious  topics  seemed  to  be  uppermost.  The  sing 
ing  was  not  as  usual.  The  music,  though  always 
sweet,  was  sadder  than  ever  before,  and  a  discord 
seemed  to  have  crept  into  the  even  flow  of  life's 
sweet  strain.  Homan  had  no  desire  to  talk.  He 
wandered  from  group  to  group  with  a  smile  for  all. 
Sardus  was  in  a  heated  discussion  with  some  kind- 
dred  spirits;  but  Homan  did  not  join  them.  Under 
the  beautiful  spread  of  the  trees  and  by  the  foun 
tains,  sat  and  walked  companies  of  sons  and  daugh 
ters  of  God.  Ah,  they  were  fair  to  look  upon,  and 
Homan  wondered  at  the  creations  of  the  Father. 
No  two  were  alike,  yet  all  bore  an  impress  of  the 
Creator,  and  each  had  an  individual  beauty  of  his 
own. 


14  ADDED  UPON 

Strolling  into  an  arbor  of  vines,  Homan,  did  not 
observe  the  fair  daughter  seated  there  until  he  turned 
to  leave;  and  then  he  saw  her.  She  seemed 
absorbed  in  thought,  and  her  eyes  rested  on  the 
shifting  throngs. 

"A  sweet  face,  and  a  strange  one,"  thought  he, 
as  he  went  up  to  her  and  spoke: 

"Sister,  what  are  you  thinking  about?" 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him,  and  then  a 
pleased  smile  overspread  her  face. 

"Shall  I  tell  you?" 

"Do,  I  beg  of  you.  May  I  sit  here?"  He  seated 
himself  opposite. 

"Yes,  brother,  sit.  My  thoughts  had  such  a 
strange  ending  that  I  will  tell  you  what  they  were. 
I  have  been  sitting  here  looking  at  these  many  faces, 
both  new  and  old,  and  studying  their  varied  beauties; 
but  none  seems  to  me  to  answer  for  my  ideal.  So 
I  have  been  taking  a  little  from  each  face,  putting 
all  together  to  form  another.  I  had  just  completed 
the  composition,  and  was  looking  admiringly  at 
the  new  form  when  you  came  and — and — " 

"Drove  away  your  picture.  That  I  should  not 
have  done." 

"No;  it  was  not  exactly  that.  It  is  so  odd." 
She  hesitated  and  turned  away  her  head.  Then  she 
looked  up  into  his  face  again  and  said:  "My  dream 
face  seemed  to  blend  with  yours." 

They  looked  at  each  other  strangely. 

"Do  you  often  make  dream  pictures?"  asked  he. 

"Yes,  of  late;  but  I  sometimes  think  I  should 
not." 


ADDED  UPON  15 

"Why?" 

"Because  of  the  many  great  events  that  are 
taking  place  around  us  daily  which  need  our  care 
ful  thought  and  consideration.  I  have  been  trying 
to  comprehend  this  great  plan  of  our  Father's  in 
regards  to  us.  I  have  asked  Mother  many  questions, 
and  she  has  explained,  but  I  cannot  fully  under 
stand — only,  it  all  seems  so  wonderful,  and  our 
Father  is  so  good  and  great  and  wise; — but  how 
could  He  be  otherwise,  having  Himself  come  up 
through  the  school  of  the  eternities?" 

Her  words  were  music  to  Homan's  ear.  Her 
voice  was  soft  and  sweet. 

"Yet  it  is  very  strange.  To  think  that  we  shall 
forget  all  we  know,  and  that  our  memories  will  fail 
to  recall  this  world  at  all." 

"Yes,  it  is  all  strange  to  us,  but  it  cannot  be 
otherwise.  You  see,  if  we  knew  all  about  what  we 
really  are  and  what  our  past  has  been,  mortal  exper 
iences  would  not  be  the  test  or  the  school  that  Father 
intends  it  to  be." 

"That  is  true;  but  think  of  being  shut  out,  even 
in  our  thoughts,  from  this  world.  And  then,  I  hear 
that  down  on  earth  there  will  be  much  sin  and  mis 
ery,  and  a  power  to  tempt  and  lead  astray.  O,  if 
we  can  but  resist  it,  dear  brother.  What  will  this 
power  be,  do  you  know?" 

"I  have  only  my  thoughts  about  it.  I  know 
nothing  for  a  certainty;  but  fear  not,  something 
will  prompt  us  to  the  right,  and  we  have  this  hope 
that  Father's  Spirit  will  not  forsake  us.  And  above 
all,  our  Elder  Brother  has  been  accepted  as  an  offer- 


16  ADDED  UPON 

ing  for  all  the  sins  we  may  do.  He  will  come  to  us 
in  purity,  and  with  power  to  loose  the  bands  of 
death.  He  will  bring  to  us  Father's  law  whereby 
we  may  overcome  the  world  and  its  sin." 

"You  said  the  bands  of  death.    What  is  death?" 

"Death  is  simply  the  losing  of  our  earthly  tab 
ernacles  for  a  time.  We  shall  be  separated  from 
them,  but  the  promise  is  that  our  Elder  Brother  will 
be  given  power  to  raise  them  up  again.  With  them 
again  united,  we  shall  become  even  as  our  parents 
are  now,  eternal,  perfected,  celestialized  beings." 

As  they  conversed,  both  faces  shone  with  a  soft, 
beautiful  light.  The  joy  within  was  traced  on  their 
countenances,  and  for  some  time  it  was  too  deep  for 
words.  Homan  was  drawn  to  this  beautiful  sister. 
All  were  pleasing  to  his  eye,  but  he  was  unusually 
attracted  to  one  who  took  such  pleasure  in  talking 
about  matters  nearest  his  heart. 

"I  must  be  going,"  said  she. 

"May  I  go  with  you?" 

"Come." 

They  wandered  silently  among  the  people,  then 
out  through  the  surrounding  gardens,  listening  to 
the  music.  Instinctively,  they  clung  to  each  other, 
nor  bestowed  more  than  a  smile  or  a  word  on  pass 
ing  brother  or  sister. 

"What  do  you  think  of  Lucifer  and  his  plan?" 
asked  she. 

"The  talented  Son  of  the  Morning  is  in  danger 
of  being  cast  out  if  he  persists  in  his  course.  As  to 
his  plan,  it  is  this:  'If  I  cannot  rule,  I  will  ruin.'  " 


ADDED  UPON  17 

"And  if  he  rule,  it  will  still  be  ruin,  it  seems 
to  me." 

"True;  and  he  is  gaining  power  over  many." 

"Yes;  he  has  talked  with  me.  He  is  a  bewitch 
ing  person;  but  his  fascination  has  something 
strange  about  it  which  I  do  not  like." 

"I  am  glad  of  that." 

She  looked  quickly  at  him,  and  then  they  gazed 
again  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"By  what  name  may  I  call  you?"  he  asked. 

"My  name  is  Delsa." 

"Will  you  tell  me  where  you  live?  May  I  come 
and  talk  with  you  agaijn?  It  will  give  me  much 
pleasure." 

"Which  pleasure  will  be  mutual,"  said  she. 

They  parted  at  the  junction  of  two  paths. 


II. 


"How  art  thou  fallen  from  heaven,  O,  Lucifer,  son  of  the 
morning." — Isaiah  1^:12. 

Never  before  in  the  experiences  of  the  intelli 
gences  of  heaven,  had  such  dire  events  been  fore 
shadowed.  A  crisis  was  certainly  at  hand.  Lucifer 
was  fast  gaining  influence  among  the  spirits — and 
they  had  their  agency  to  follow  whom  they  would. 
The  revolting  spirit  had  skill  in  argument;  and  the 
light-minded,  the  discontented,  and  the  rebellious 
were  won  over. 

To  be  assured  eternal  glory  and  power  without 
an  effort  on  their  part,  appealed  to  them  as  some- 


18  ADDED  UPON 

thing  to  be  desired.  To  be  untrammeled  with  laws, 
to  be  free  to  act  at  pleasure,  without  jeopardizing 
their  future  welfare,  certainly  was  an  attractive 
proposition.  The  pleasures  in  the  body  would  be 
of  a  nature  hitherto  unknown.  Why  not  be  free 
to  enjoy  them?  Why  this  curb  on  the  passions  and 
desires?  "Hail  to  Lucifer  and  his  plan!  We  will 
follow  him.  He  is  in  the  right." 

Many  of  the  mighty  and  noble  children  of  God 
arrayed  themselves  on  the  side  of  Christ,  their  Elder 
Brother,  and  waged  war  against  Lucifer's  pernici 
ous  doctrine.  One  of  the  foremost  among  them  was 
Michael.  He  was  unceasing  in  his  efforts  to  bring 
all  under  the  authority  of  the  Father.  The  plan 
which  had  been  proposed,  and  which  had  been  ac 
cepted  by  the  majority,  had  been  evolved  from  the 
wisdom  of  past  eternities.  It  had  exalted  worlds 
before.  It  had  been  proved  wise  and  just.  It  was 
founded  on  correct  principles.  By  it  only  could  the 
spiritual  creation  go  on  in  its  evolution  to  greater 
and  to  higher  things.  It  was  the  will  of  the  Father, 
to  whom  they  all  owed  their  existence  as  progressive, 
spiritual  organizations.  To  bow  to  Him  was  no 
humiliation.  To  honor  and  obey  Him  was  their 
duty.  To  follow  the  First  Born,  Him  whom  the 
Father  had  chosen  as  mediator,  was  no  more  than 
a  Father  should  request.  Any  other  plan  would  lead 
to  confusion.  Thus  reasoned  the  followers  of  Christ. 

Then  there  were  others,  not  valiant  in  either 
cause,  who  stood  on  neutral  ground.  Without 
strength  of  character  to  come  out  boldly,  they  aided 
neither  the  right  nor  the  wrong.  Weak-minded  as 


ADDED  UPON  19 

they  were,  they  could  not  be  trusted,  nor  could 
Lucifer  win  them  over. 

Meanwhile,  the  earth,  rolling  in  space,  evolved 
from  its  chaotic  state,  and  in  time  became  a  fit  abode 
for  the  higher  creations  of  God. 

Then  the  crisis  came.  The  edict  went  forth 
that  for  many  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  God 
the  first  estate  was  about  to  end,  and  that  the  second 
would  be  ushered  in.  Lucifer  had  now  won  over 
many  of  the  hosts  of  heaven.  These  had  failed  to 
keep  their  first  estate.  Now  there  would  be  a  sep 
aration. 

A  council  was  convened,  and  the  leading  spirits 
were  summoned.  All  waited  for  the  outcome  in 
silent  awe. 

Then  came  the  decision,  spoken  with  heavenly 
authority: 

"Ye  valiant  and  loyal  sons  and  daughters  of 
God,  blessed  are  ye  for  your  righteousness  and  your 
faithfulness  to  God  and  His  cause.  Your  reward 
is  that  ye  shall  be  permitted  to  dwell  on  the  new 
earth,  and  in  tabernacles  of  flesh  continue  in  the 
eternal  course  of  progress,  as  has  been  marked  out 
and  explained  to  you." 

Then,  to  the  still  defiant  forms  of  Lucifer  and 
his  adherents  this  was  said: 

"Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning,  thou  hast  with 
drawn  from  the  Father  many  of  the  children  of 
heaven.  They  have  their  agency,  and  have  chosen 
to  believe  thy  lies.  They  have  fallen  with  thee  from 
before  the  face  of  God.  Thus  hast  thou  used  the 
power  given  thee.  Thou  hast  said  in  thy  heart,  I 


20  ADDED  UPON 

will  exalt  my  throne  above  the  stars  of  God.  .  .  . 
I  will  be  like  the  Most  High!  Thou  hast  sought  to 
usurp  power,  to  take  a  kingdom  that  does  not  belong 
to  thee.  God  holds  you  all  as  in  the  hollow  of  His 
hand;  yet  He  has  not  restrained  thine  agency.  He 
has  been  patient  and  longsuffering  with  you.  Re 
bellious  children  of  heaven,  the  Father's  bosom 
heaves  with  sorrow  for  you;  but  justice  claims  its 
own — your  punishment  is  that  you  be  cast  out  of 
heaven.  Bodies  of  flesh  and  bones  ye  shall  not  have; 
but  ye  shall  wander  without  tabernacles  over  the 
face  of  the  earth.  Ye  shall  be  'reserved  in  everlast 
ing  chains  under  darkness  unto  the  judgment  of  the 
great  day.' " 

Thus  went  forth  the  decree  of  the  Almighty ; 
and  with  it  the  force  of  His  power.  Lucifer  and 
many  of  the  hosts  of  heaven  were  cast  down.  The 
whole  realm  was  thrilled  with  the  power  of  God. 
The  celestial  elements  were  stirred  to  their  depths. 
Heaven  wept  over  the  fallen  spirits,  and  the  cry 
went  out,  "Lo,  lo,  he  is  fallen,  even  the  Son  of  the 
Morning." 


III. 

"For  thou  lovedst  me  before  the  foundation  of  the  world." 
—i John  17:24. 

There  was  a  calm  in  heaven  like  unto  that  of 
a  summer  morning  after  a  night  of  storm. 

Throughout  the  whole  strife,  the  dark  clouds 
of  evil  had  been  gathering.  In  the  fierce  struggle, 


ADDED  UPON  21 

the  spirits  of  heaven  had  been  storm-tossed  as  on 
two  contending  waves;  but  when  Lucifer  and  his 
forces  were  cast  out,  the  atmosphere  became  purged 
of  its  uncleanness,  and  a  sweet  peace  brooded  over 
all.  Save  for  sorrow  for  the  lost  ones,  nothing 
marred  the  perfect  joy  of  heaven.  All  now  looked 
forward  to  the  consummation  of  that  plan  whereby 
they  would  become  inhabitants  of  another  world, 
fitted  for  their  school  of  experience  in  the  flesh.  All 
prepared  themselves  with  this  end  in  view. 

None  was  more  grateful  to  his  Father  than 
Homan.  In  the  midst  of  the  strife,  he  had  done 
what  he  could  for  what  he  thought  was  right.  All 
his  influence  had  been  used  with  the  wavering  ones, 
and  many  were  those  who  owed  him  a  debt  of  grat 
itude.  But  his  greatest  reward  was  in  the  peace 
which  dwelt  within  him  and  the  joy  with  which  he 
was  greeted  by  all  who  knew  him. 

Through  it  all,  Homan's  thoughts  had  often 
been  with  the  fair  sister  Delsa;  and  often  he  had 
sought  her  and  talked  with  her.  It  pleased  him 
greatly  to  see  the  earnestness  and  energy  with  which 
she  defended  the  cause  of  the  Father.  He  was 
drawn  to  her  more  than  to  the  many  others  who 
were  equally  valiant.  As  he  thought  of  it,  its 
strangeness  occurred  to  him.  Why  should  it  be  so? 
He  did  not  know.  Delsa  was  fair;  so  were  all  the 
daughters  of  God.  She  had  attained  to  great  intel 
ligence;  so  had  thousands  of  others.  Then  wherein 
lay  the  secret  of  the  power  which  drew  him  to  her? 

The  vastness  of  the  spiritual  world  held  enough 
for  study,  research,  and  for  occupation.  None 


22  ADDED  UPON 

needed  to  be  idle,  for  there  were  duties  to  be  per 
formed,  as  much  here  as  in  any  other  sphere  of 
action.  In  the  Father's  house  are  many  mansions. 

In  the  one  where  Delsa  lived,  she  and  Homan 
sat  in  earnest  conversation.  Through  the  opening 
leading  to  the  garden  appeared  the  stately  form  of 
Sardus.  Homan  sprang  to  meet  him  and  greeted 
him  joyously: 

"Welcome,  Brother  Sardus,  welcome!" 

Delsa  arose. 

"This  is  Brother  Sardus,"  said  Homan,  "and 
this  is  Sister  Delsa." 

"Welcome,  brother,"  said  she.  "Come  and  sit 
with  us." 

"Sardus,"  continued  Homan,  "I  thought  you 
lost.  I  have  not  met  you  for  a  long  time.  You 
remember  our  last  conversation?  Sardus,  what  joy 
to  know  that  you  are  on  the  safe  side,  that  you  did 
not  fall  with  Lucifer — " 

"S — h,  that  name.  Dear  brother,  he  tempted 
me  sorely,  but  I  overcame  him." 

"But  we  are  shortly  to  meet  him  on  new 
ground,"  continued  Homan.  "As  seducing  spirits, 
he  and  his  followers  will  still  fight  against  the 
anointed  Son.  They  will  not  yield.  Not  obtaining 
bodies  themselves,  they  will  seek  to  operate  through 
those  of  others." 

"Now  we  know  how  temptation  and  sin  will 
come  into  the  world,"  said  Delsa.  "God  grant  that 
we  may  overcome  these  dangers  again,  as  we  once 
have  done." 


ADDED  UPON  23 

They  conversed  for  some  time;  then  Sardus 
departed  to  perform  some  duty. 

"I,  too,  must  go,"  said  Delsa.  "A  company  of 
sisters  is  soon  to  leave  for  earth,  and  I  am  going 
to  say  farewell  to  them." 

"Delsa,  you  do  not  go  with  them?  You  are  not 
leaving  me?" 

"No,  Roman,  my  time  is  not  yet." 

"May  we  not  go  together? — but  there — that  is 
as  Father  wills.  He  will  ordain  for  the  best.  There 
are  nations  yet  to  go  to  the  earth,  and  we  shall  have 
our  allotted  time  and  place." 

A  group  of  persons  was  engaged  in  earnest 
conversation,  when  a  messenger  approached.  He 
raised  his  hand  for  silence,  and  then  announced: 
"I  come  from  the  Father  on  an  errand  to  you." 
The  company  gave  him  close  attention,  and  he 
continued:  "It  is  pertaining  to  some  of  our  brothers 
and  sisters  who  have  gone  before  us  into  earth- 
life.  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  about  them  so  that  you 
may  understand.  A  certain  family  of  earth-children 
has  fallen  into  evil  ways.  Not  being  very  strong 
for  the  truth  before  they  left  us,  their  experiences 
in  the  other  world  have  not  made  them  stronger. 
This  family,  it  seems,  has  become  rooted  in  false 
doctrine  and  wrong  living,  so  that  those  who  come 
to  them  from  us  partake  also  of  their  error  and 
unbelief  of  the  truth.  As  you  know,  kinship  and 
environment  are  powerful  agencies  in  forming  char 
acter,  and  it  appears  that  none  of  the  Father's  child 
ren  have  so  far  been  able  to  withstand  the  ten- 


24  ADDED  UPON 

dency  to  wrong  which  is  exerted  on  all  who  come 
to  this  family." 

The  messenger  paused  and  looked  around  on 
the  listening  group.  Then  he  continued:  "The 
Father  bids  me  ask  if  any  of  you  are  willing  to  go 
in  earth-life  to  this  family,  become  kin  to  those 
weak-hearted  ones — for  their  salvation." 

There  was  a  long  pause  as  if  all  were  consid 
ering  the  proposition.  The  messenger  waited. 

"Brother,"  asked  one,  "is  there  not  danger  that 
he  who  goes  on  this  mission  might  himself  come 
under  the  influence  you  speak  of  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  also  would  be  lost  to  the  good,  and  thus  make 
a  failure  of  his  mission?" 

"In  the  earth-life,  as  here,"  replied  the  mes 
senger,  "all  have  their  agency.  It  is,  therefore,  pos 
sible  that  those  who  take  upon  themselves  this  mis 
sion — for  there  must  be  two,  male  and  female — to 
give  way  to  the  power  of  evil,  and  thus  fail  in  their 
errand.  But,  consider  this:  the  Father  has  sent  me 
to  you.  He  knows  you,  your  hearts,  your  faithful 
ness,  your  strength.  He  knows  whom  He  is  asking 
to  go  into  danger  for  the  sake  of  saving  souls.  Yes, 
friends,  the  Father  knows,  and  this  ought  to  be 
enough  for  you." 

The  listeners  bowed  their  heads  as  if  ashamed 
of  the  doubting,  fearful  thought.  Then  in  the  still 
ness,  one  spoke  as  if  to  herself:  "To  be  a  savior, — 
to  share  in  the  work  of  our  Elder  Brother!  O, 
think  of  it!"  Then  the  speaker  raised  her  head 
quickly.  "May  I  go,  may  I?"  she  questioned 
eagerly. 


ADDED  UPON  25 

"And  I,"  "and  I,"  came  from  others. 

"Sister,  you  will  do  for  one,"  said  the  messen 
ger  to  her  who  had  first  spoken.  "And  now,  we  need 
a  brother — yes,  you,  brother,  will  do."  This  to  one 
who  was  pressing  forward,  asking  to  be  chosen. 

"Yes,  yes,"  continued  the  messenger,  as  he 
smiled  his  pleasure  on  the  company,  "I  see  that  the 
Father  knows  you  all." 

"But,"  faltered  the  sister  who  had  been  chosen, 
"what  are  we  to  do?  May  we  not  know?" 

"Not  wholly,"  was  the  reply.  "Do  you  not  re 
member  what  you  have  been  taught,  that  a  veil  is 
drawn  over  the  eyes  of  all  who  enter  mortality,  and 
the  memory  of  this  world  is  taken  away;  but  this 
I  may  tell  you,  that  by  the  power  of  your  spiritual 
insight  and  moral  strength  you  will  be  able  to 
exert  a  correcting  influence  over  your  brothers  and 
sisters  in  the  flesh,  and  especially  over  those  of  your 
kin.  Then  again,  when  you  hear  the  gospel  of  our 
Elder  Brother  preached,  it  will  have  a  familiar 
sound  to  you  and  you  will  receive  it  gladly.  Then 
you  will  become  teachers  to  your  households  and  a 
light  unto  your  families.  Again,  not  only  to  those 
in  the  flesh  will  you  minister.  Many  will  have 
passed  from  earth-life  in  ignorance  of  the  gospel  of 
salvation  when  you  come.  These  must  have  the 
saving  ordinances  of  the  gospel  performed  for  them, 
so  that  when  they  some  time  receive  the  truth,  the 
necessary  rites  will  have  been  performed.  This 
work,  also,  is  a  part  of  your  mission — to  enter  into 
the  Temples  of  the  Lord,  male  and  female,  each  for 
his  and  her  kind,  and  do  this  work." 


26  ADDED  UPON 

A  sister,  pressing  timidly  forward  near  to  him 
who  had  been  chosen,  took  his  hand,  and  looked 
pleadingly  into  the  face  of  the  messenger.  "May 
not  I,  too,  go?"  she  asked.  "I  believe  I  could  help 
a  little." 

The  messenger  smiled  at  her,  seeing  to  whose 
hand  she  clung.  "I  think  so,"  he  said;  "but  we 
shall  see." 

"When  do  we  go?"  asked  the  brother. 

"Not  yet.  Abide  the  will  of  the  Father, — and 
peace  be  with  you  all." 

He  left  them  in  awed  silence.  Then,  presently, 
they  began  to  speak  to  each  other  of  the  wonderful 
things  they  had  heard  and  the  call  that  had  come 
to  some  of  them. 

Times  and  seasons,  nations  and  peoples  had 
come  and  gone.  Millions  of  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  God  had  passed  through  the  earthly  school,  and 
had  gone  on  to  other  fields  of  labor,  some  with 
honor,  others  with  dishonor.  God's  spiritual  intel 
ligences,  in  their  innumerable  gradations  were  be 
ing  allotted  their  times  and  places.  The  scheme  of 
things  inaugurated  by  the  Father  was  working  out 
its  legitimate  results. 

Homan's  time  had  come  for  him  to  leave  his 
spiritual  home.  He  was  now  to  take  the  step,  which, 
though  temporarily  downward,  would  secure  him 
a  footing  by  which  to  climb  to  greater  heights. 
Delsa  was  still  in  her  first  estate.  So  also  was 
Sardus.  They,  with  a  company,  were  gathered  to 
bid  Homan  farewell,  and  thus  they  spoke: 

"We    do    not    know,"     Homan    was    saying, 


ADDED  UPON  27 

"whether  or  not  we  shall  meet  on  the  earth.  Our 
places  and  callings  may  be  far  apart,  and  we  may 
never  know  or  recognize  each  other  until  that  day 
when  we  shall  meet  again  in  the  mansions  of  our 
Father." 

"I  am  thankful  for  one  thing:  I  understand  that 
a  more  opportune  time  in  which  to  fill  our  proba 
tion  has  never  been  known  on  the  earth.  The 
Gospel  exists  there  in  its  fulness,  and  the  time  of 
utter  spiritual  darkness  has  gone.  The  race  is 
strong  and  can  give  us  sound  bodies.  Now,  if  we 
are  worthy,  we  shall,  no  doubt,  secure  a  parentage 
that  will  give  us  those  powers  of  mind  and  body 
which  are  needed  to  successfully  combat  the  powers 
of  evil." 

It  was  no  new  doctrine  to  them,  but  they  loved 
to  dwell  upon  the  glorious  theme. 

"We  have  been  taught  that  we  shall  get  that 
position  to  which  our  preparation  here  entitles  us. 
Existence  is  eternal,  and  its  various  stages  grade 
naturally  into  one  another,  like  the  different  depart 
ments  of  a  school." 

"Some  have  been  ordained  to  certain  positions 
of  trust.  Father  knows  us  all,  and  understands 
what  we  will  do.  Many  of  our  mighty  ones  have 
already  gone,  and  many  are  yet  with  us  awaiting 
Father's  will." 

"I  was  once  quite  impatient.  Everything 
seemed  to  pass  so  slowly,  I  thought;  but  now  I  see 
in  it  the  wisdom  of  the  Father.  What  confusion 
would  result  if  too  many  went  to  the  earth-life  at 


28  ADDED  UPON 

once.     The  experience  of  those  who  go  before  are 
for  our  better  reception." 

"Sardus,"  said  Roman,  "I  hear  that  you  are 
taking  great  delight  in  music." 

"That  is  expressing  the  truth  mildly,  dear  Ho- 
man.  Lately  I  can  think  of  nothing  else." 

"What  is  your  opinion  of  a  person  being  so 
carried  away  with  one  subject?"  asked  one. 

"I  was  going  to  say,"  answered  Roman,  "that 
I  think  there  is  danger  in  it.  Some  I  know  who 
neglect  every  other  duty  except  the  cultivation  of 
a  certain  gift.  I  think  we  ought  to  grow  into  a 
perfectly  rounded  character,  cultivating  all  of 
Father's  gifts  to  us,  but  not  permitting  any  of  them 
to  become  an  object  of  worship." 

"Remember,  we  take  with  us  our  various  traits," 
said  Delsa.  "I  think,  Roman,  your  view  is  correct. 
It  is  well  enough  to  excel  in  one  thing,  but  that 
should  not  endanger  our  harmonious  development." 

"I  have  noticed,  Delsa,  that  you  are  quite  an 
adept  at  depicting  the  beautiful  in  Father's  crea 
tions." 

"I?"  she  asked;  "there  is  no  danger  of  my  be 
coming  a  genius  in  that  line.  I  do  not  care  enough 
for  it,  though  I  do  a  little  of  it." 

Thus  they  conversed;  then  they  sang  songs. 
Tunes  born  of  heavenly  melody  thrilled  them.  After 
a  time  they  separated,  and  Roman  would  have  gone 
his  way  alone,  but  Delsa  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"Roman,  there  is  something  I  wish  to  tell  you," 
she  said.  "May  I  walk  with  you?" 

"Instead  I  will  go  with  you,"  he  replied. 


ADDED  UPON  29 

They  went  on  together. 

"I,   too,   soon  am  going  to  earth,"   she  said. 

"Is  it  true?" 

"Yes;  Mother  has  informed  me  and  I  have  been 
preparing  for  some  time.  Dear  Homan,  I  am  so 
glad,  still  the  strange  uncertainty  casts  a  peculiar 
feeling  over  me.  Oh,  if  we  could  but  be  classmates 
in  the  future  school." 

"Father  may  order  it  that  way,"  he  replied. 
"He  knows  our  desires,  and  if  they  are  righteous 
and  for  our  good  He  may  see  that  they  are  gratified. 
Do  you  go  soon?" 

"Yes;  but  not  so  soon  as  you.  You  will  go 
before  and  prepare  a  welcome  for  me.  Then  I  will 
come."  She  smiled  up  into  his  face. 

"By  faith  we  see  afar,"  he  replied. 

"Yes;  we  live  by  faith,"  she  added. 

Hand  in  hand,  they  went.  They  spoke  no  more, 
but  communed  with  each  other  through  a  more 
subtle  channel  of  silence.  Celestial  melodies  rang  in 
their  ears;  the  celestial  landscape  gladdened  their 
eyes;  the  peace  of  God,  their  Father,  was  in  their 
hearts.  They  walked  hand  in  hand  for  the  last 
time  in  this,  their  first  estate. 


PART  SECOND 


"Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting; 
The  soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 

And  cometh  from  afar. 

Not  in  entire  forgetfulness 

And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 

But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 

From  God  who  is  our  home." 

— Wordsworth 


"Two  shall  be  born  the  whole  wide  world  apart, 

And  speak  in  different  tongues  and  have  no  thought 

Each  of  the  other's  being,  and  no  heed; 

And  these  o'er  unknown  seas  and  unknown  lands 

Shall  cross,  escaping  wreck,  defying  death; 

And  all  unconsciously  shape  every  act 

And  bend  each  wandering  step  to  this  one  end — 

That,  one  day,  out  of  darkness  they  shall  meet 

And  read  life's  meaning  in  each  other's  eyes." 

— Susan  Marr  Spotting 


I. 

"Even  a  child  is  known  by  his  doings." — Prov.  20:11. 

How  it  did  rain!  For  two  long  months  the  sky 
had  been  one  unchangeable  color  of  blue;  but  now 
the  dark  clouds  hung  low  and  touched  the  horizon 
at  every  point  dropping  their  long-accumulated 
water  on  the  thirsty  barrens,  soaking 'the  dried-up 
fields  and  meadows.  The  earth  was  thirsty,  and 
the  sky  had  at  last  taken  pity.  It  rained  all  day. 
The  water-ditches  along  the  streets  of  the  village 
ran  thick  and  black.  The  house-wife's  tubs  and 
buckets  under  the  dripping  eaves  were  overrunning. 
The  dust  was  washed  from  the  long  rows  of  trees 
which  lined  the  streets. 

It  rained  steadily  all  over  the  valley.  The  creek 
which  came  from  the  mountains,  and  which  distrib 
uted  its  waters  to  the  town  and  adjacent  farm-lands, 
was  unusually  muddy.  Up  in  the  canyon,  just  above 
the  town,  it  seemed  to  leap  over  the  rocks  with 
unwonted  fury,  dashing  its  brown  waters  into  white 
foam.  The  town  below,  the  farms  and  gardens  of 
the  whole  valley,  depended  for  their  existence  on 
that  small  river.  Through  the  long,  hot  summer  its 
waters  had  been  distributed  into  streams  and  sub- 
streams  like  the  branches  of  a  great  tree,  and  had 
carried  the  life-giving  element  to  the  growing  veg 
etation  in  the  valley;  but  now  it  was  master  no  more. 
The  rain  was  pouring  down  on  places  which  the 


34  ADDED  UPON 

river  could  not  reach.  No  wonder  the  river  seemed 
angry  at  such  usurpation. 

About  two  miles  from  town,  upon  the  high 
bench-land  which  lay  above  the  waters  in  the  river, 
stood  a  hut.  It  was  built  of  unhewn  logs,  and  had 
a  mud  roof.  Stretches  of  sagebrush  desert  reached 
in  every  direction  from  it.  A  few  acres  of  cleared 
land  lay  near  by,  its  yellow  stubble  drinking  in  the 
rain.  A  horse  stood  under  a  shed.  A  pile  of  sage 
brush  with  ax  and  chopping  block  lay  in  the  yard. 

Evening  came  on  and  still  it  rained.  A  woman 
often  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  hut,  and  a  pale, 
anxious  face  peered  out  into  the  twilight.  She  looked 
out  over  the  bench-land  and  then  up  to  the  moun 
tains.  Through  the  clouds  which  hung  around  their 
summits,  she  could  see  the  peaks  being  covered  with 
snow.  She  looked  at  the  sky,  then  again  along  the 
plain.  She  went  in,  closed  the  door,  and  filled  the 
stove  from  the  brush-wood  in  the  box.  A  little  girl 
was  sitting  in  the  corner  by  the  stove,  with  her  feet 
resting  on  the  hearth. 

"I  thought  I  heard  old  Reddy's  bell,"  she  said, 
looking  up  to  her  mother. 

"No;  I  heard  nothing.  Poor  boy,  he  must  be 
wet  through." 

The  mud  roof  was  leaking,  and  pans  and  buck 
ets  were  placed  here  and  there  to  catch  the  water. 
The  bed  had  been  moved  a  number  of  times  to  find 
a  dry  spot,  but  at  last  two  milk  pans  and  a  pail 
had  to  be  placed  on  it.  Drip,  drip,  rang  the  tins — 
and  it  still  rained. 

The  mother  went  again  to  the  door.    The  clang 


ADDED  UPON  35 

of  cow-bells  greeted  her,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  a 
boy  drove  two  cows  into  the  shed.  The  mother  held 
the  door  open  while  he  came  stamping  into  the 
house.  He  was  a  boy  of  about  fifteen,  wearing  a 
big  straw  hat  pressed  down  over  his  brown  hair, 
a  shabby  coat,  blue  overalls  with  a  rend  up  one  leg, 
ragged  shoes,  but  no  stockings.  He  was  wet  to  the 
skin,  and  a  pool  of  water  soon  accumulated  on  the 
floor  where  he  paused  for  an  instant. 

"Rupert,  you're  wet  through.  How  long  you 
have  been!  You  must  get  your  clothes  off,"  anx 
iously  exclaimed  his  mother. 

"Phew!"  said  he,  "that's  a  whoopin'  big  rain. 
Say,  mother,  if  we'd  only  had  this  two  months  ago, 
now,  on  our  dry  farm,  wouldn't  we  have  raised  a 
crop  though." 

"You  must  get  your  clothes  off,  Rupert." 

"Oh,  that's  nothin'.  I  must  milk  first;  and  say 
I  guess  the  mud's  washed  off  the  roof  by  the  looks 
of  things.  I  guess  I'll  fix  it." 

"Never  mind  now,  you're  so  wet." 

"Well,  I  can't  get  any  wetter,  and  I'll  work  and 
keep  warm.  It  won't  do  to  have  the  water  comin' 
in  like  this — look  here,  there's  a  mud  puddle  right 
on  Sis's  back,  an'  she  don't  know  it." 

He  laughed  and  went  out.  It  was  quite  dark, 
but  the  rain  had  nearly  ceased.  With  his  wheel 
barrow  and  shovel  he  went  to  a  ravine  close  by  and 
obtained  a  load  of  clay,  which  he  easily  threw  up 
on  the  roof  of  the  low  "lean-to";  then  he  climbed 
up  and  patched  the  holes.  A  half  hour's  work  and  it 
was  done. 


36  ADDED  UPON 

"And  now  I'll  milk  while  I'm  at  it,"  he  said; 
which  he  did. 

"I've  kept  your  supper  warm,"  said  his  mother, 
as  she  busied  with  the  table.  "It's  turned  quite 
cold.  Why  did  you  stay  so  long  today?" 

Rupert  had  changed  his  wet  clothes,  and  the 
family  was  sitting  around  the  table  eating  mush 
and  milk.  A  small  lamp  threw  a  cheery  light  over 
the  bare  table  and  its  few  dishes,  over  the  faces 
of  mother,  boy,  and  girl.  It  revealed  the  bed,  moved 
back  into  its  usual  corner,  shone  on  the  cupboard 
with  its  red  paint  nearly  worn  off,  and  dimly  lighted 
the  few  pictures  hanging  on  the  rough  whitewashed 
wall. 

It  was  a  poor  home,  but  the  lamplight  revealed 
no  discontent  in  the  faces  around  the  table.  True, 
the  mother's  was  a  little  pinched  and  careworn, 
which  gave  the  yet  beautiful  face  a  sharp  expres 
sion;  but  the  other  two  countenances  shone  with 
health  and  happiness.  The  girl  was  enjoying  her 
supper,  the  bright  sagebrush  fire,  and  the  story  book 
by  the  side  of  her  bowl,  all  at  the  same  time.  She 
dipped,  alternately,  into  her  bowl  and  into  her  book. 

The  boy  was  the  man  of  that  family.  He  had 
combed  his  hair  well  back,  and  his  bright,  honest 
face  gleamed  in  the  light.  He  was  big  and  strong, 
hardened  by  constant  toil,  matured  beyond  his  years 
by  the  responsibility  which  had  been  placed  upon 
him  since  his  father's  death,  now  four  years  ago. 
Infjfanswer  to  his  mother's  inquiries,  Rupert  ex 
plained: 

"You  see,  the  cows  had  strayed  up  Dry  Holler, 


ADDED  UPON  37 

an'  I  had  an  awful  time  a  findin'  them.  I  couldn't 
hear  any  bell,  neither.  Dry  Holler  creek  is  just 
boomin',  an'  there's  a  big  lake  up  there  now.  The 
water  has  washed  out  a  hole  in  the  bank  and  has 
gone  into  Dry  Basin,  an'  it's  backed  up  there  till 
now  it's  a  lake  as  big  as  Brown's  pond.  As  I  stood 
and  looked  at  the  running  water  an'the  pond,  some- 
thin'  came  into  my  head — somethin'  I  heard  down 
town  last  summer.  An'  mother,  we  must  do  it!" 

The  boy  was  glowing  with  some  exciting 
thought.  His  mother  looked  at  him  while  his  sister 
neglected  both  book  and  bowl. 

"Do  what,  Rupert?" 

"Why,  we  must  have  Dry  Basin,  an'  I'll  make 
a  reservoir  out  of  it,  an'  we'll  have  water  in  the 
summer  for  our  land,  an'  it'll  be  just  the  thing. 
With  a  little  work  the  creek  can  be  turned  into  the 
Basin  which'll  fill  up  during  the  winter  an'  spring. 
There's  a  low  place  which  we'll  have  to  bank  up, 
an'  the  thing's  done.  The  ditch'll  be  the  biggest 
job,  but  I  think  we  can  get  some  help  on  that — but 
we  must  have  the  land  up  in  Dry  Holler  now  before 
someone  else  thinks  of  it  an'  settles  on  it.  Mother, 
I  was  just  wonderin'  why  someone  hasn't  thought 
of  this  before." 

The  mother  was  taken  by  surprise  She  sat 
and  looked  wonderingly  at  the  boy  us  he  talked. 
The  idea  was  new  to  her,  but  now  she  thought  of 
it,  it  seemed  perfectly  feasible.  Work  was  the  only 
thing  needed;  but  could  she  and  her  boy  do  it? 

Five  years  ago  when  Mr.  Ames  had  moved  upon 
the  bench,  he  had  been  promised  that  the  new  canal 


38  ADDED  UPON 

should  come  high  enough  to  bring  water  to  his  land; 
but  a  new  survey  had  been  made  which  had  left 
his  farm  far  above  the  irrigation  limit.  Mr.  Ames 
had  died  before  he  could  move  his  family;  and  they 
had  been  compelled  to  remain  in  their  temporary 
hut  these  four  long,  hard  years.  Rupert  had  tried 
to  farm  without  water.  A  little  wheat  and  alfalfa 
had  been  raised,  which  helped  the  little  family  to 
live  without  actual  suffering. 

That  evening,  mother  and  son  talked  late  into 
the  night.  Nina  listened  until  her  eyes  closed  in 
sleep.  The  rain  had  ceased  altogether,  and  the 
moon,  hurrying  through  the  breaking  clouds,  shone 
in  at  the  little  curtained  window.  Prayers  were 
said,  and  then  they  retired.  Peaceful  sleep  reigned 
within.  Without,  the  moonlight  illumined  the  moun 
tains,  shining  on  the  caps  of  pearly  whiteness  which 
they  had  donned  for  the  night. 

II. 

"He  that  tilleth  his  land  shall  be  satisfied  with  bread;  but 
he  that  followeth  vain  persons  is  void  of  understanding." — 
Prov.  12:11. 

Widow  Ames  had  homesteaded  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres  of  government  land  in  Dry  Hollow.  That 
was  a  subject  for  a  two  days'  gossip  in  the  town. 
There  was  speculation  about  what  she  wanted  with 
a  dry  ravine  in  the  hills,  and  many  shook  their  heads 
in  condemnation.  However,  it  set  some  to  thinking 
and  moved  one  man,  at  least,  to  action.  Jed  Bolton, 


ADDED  UPON  39 

the  same  day  that  he  heard  of  it,  rode  up  into  the 
hills  above  town.  Sure  enough,  there  was  a  rough 
shanty  nearly  finished;  some  furrows  had  been 
plowed,  and  every  indication  of  settlement  was 
present.  Mr.  Bolton  bit  his  lip  and  used  language 
which,  if  it  did  not  grate  on  his  own  ears,  could 
not  on  the  only  other  listener,  his  horse. 

Rupert  was  on  the  roof  of  his  shanty  and  Mr. 
Bolton  greeted  him  as  he  rode  up. 

"Hello,  Rupe,  what're  ye  doin'?" 

"Just  finishin'  my  house.  It  looks  like  more 
rain,  an'  I  must  have  the  roof  good  an'  tight." 

"You're  not  goin'  to  live  here?" 

"Oh,  yes,  part  of  the  time." 

"What's  that  for?" 

"To  secure  our  claim.  Mother's  homesteaded 
one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  this  land." 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  goin'  to  do  with 
it?" 

"We'll  farm  some  of  it,  of  course,  an'  we'll  find 
some  use  for  another  part  after  awhile,  I  guess." 

Then  Mr.  Bolton  changed  his  tactics.  He  tried 
to  discourage  the  boy  by  telling  him  that  it  was 
railroad  land,  and  even  if  it  wasn't,  his  own  adja 
cent  claim  took  it  all  in  anyway;  Rupert  did  not 
scare,  but  said,  "I  guess  not,"  as  he  went  on  quietly 
fitting  and  pounding. 

The  man  had  to  give  it  up.  "That  Ames  kid" 
had  gotten  the  best  of  him. 

This  was  four  years  ago,  and  wonderful  changes 
had  taken  place  since  then.  Rupert  had  begun 
work  on  his  reservoir  the  spring  after  they  had 


40  ADDED  UPON 

taken  possession.  He  had  a  most  beautiful  site  for 
one;  and  when  the  melting  winter  snows  and  spring 
rains  filled  Dry  Hollow  creek,  most  of  it  was  turn 
ed  into  the  Basin.  It  slowly  spread  out,  filled  the 
deep  ravines,  and  crept  up  to  Rupert's  embank 
ment.  Then  he  turned  the  stream  back  into  its 
natural  channel  again.  Many  came  to  look  at  the 
wonder.  Some  of  his  neighbor  "dry-benchers"  of 
fered  to  join  him  and  help  him  for  a  share  in  the 
water.  The  reservoir  could  be  greatly  enlarged,  and 
the  canal  leading  from  it  around  the  side-hills  to 
the  bench  had  yet  to  be  dug;  so  Rupert  and  his 
mother  accepted  the  offers  of  help  and  the  work 
went  on  rapidly.  The  next  year  Dry  Bench  had 
water.  New  ground  was  broken  and  cleared.  Trees 
were  set  out.  There  was  new  life  on  the  farm,  and 
new  hopes  within  the  hearts  of  Widow  Ames  and 
her  children. 

Dry  Bench  farm  had  undergone  a  change.  A 
neat  frame  house  stood  in  front  of  the  log  hut,  which 
had  been  boarded  and  painted  to  match  the  newer 
part.  A  barn  filled  with  hay  and  containing  horses 
and  cows  stood  at  a  proper  distance  back.  A  gran 
ary  and  a  corn-crib  were  near.  The  new  county 
road  now  extended  along  the  fronting  of  the  Ames 
place,  and  a  neat  fence  separated  the  garden  from 
the  public  highway.  On  the  left  was  the  orchard, 
a  beautiful  sight.  Standing  in  long,  symmetrical 
rows  were  peaches,  apples,  pears,  and  a  dozen  other 
varieties  of  fruit,  now  just  beginning  to  bear.  At 
the  rear,  stretching  nearly  to  the  mountains,  were 
the  grain  and  alfalfa  fields.  Neighboring  farms 


ADDED  UPON  41 

also  were  greatly  improved  by  the  advent  of  water, 
but  none  showed  such  labor  and  care  as  the  Ames 
farm.  Rupert  grew  with  the  growth  of  his  labors, 
until  he  was  now  a  tall,  muscular  fellow,  browned 
and  calloused.  Nina  was  fast  outgrowing  childish 
things  and  entering  the  young-lady  period.  A  beau 
tiful  girl  she  was,  and  a  favorite  among  her  school 
mates.  She  had  attended  school  in  town  for  the 
past  three  winters,  and  her  brother  was  talking  of 
sending  her  to  the  high  school. 

Practically,  Rupert  was  the  head  of  the  family. 
Always  respectful  to  his  mother,  and  generally  con 
sulting  with  her  on  any  important  matter,  he  never 
theless  could  not  help  seeing  that  everything  de 
pended  on  him,  and  that  he  was  the  master  mind 
of  Ames  farm.  And  then  the  neighbors  came  to 
him  for  advice,  and  older  and  presumably  wiser 
men  counseled  with  him,  and  so  it  suggested  itself 
to  Rupert  that  he  was  the  master  mind  of  all  Dry 
Bench  besides.  Everybody  called  him  a  "rustler." 
When  he  had  leisure  for  school,  he  was  beyond 
school  age;  so,  nothing  daunted,  he  set  out  to  study 
by  himself.  He  procured  the  necessary  books,  and 
went  to  them  with  an  energy  that  made  up  for  the 
lack  of  a  teacher.  Nina  kept  pace  with  him  for  a 
time,  but  the  ungraded  village  school  curriculum 
was  too  slow  for  Rupert;  and  when  one  spring 
the  young  reservoir  projector  appeared  at  the  county 
teachers'  examination  and  passed  creditably,  all,  as 
he  said  "just  for  fun  and  practice,"  the  people  talked 
again — and  elected  him  to  the  board  of  trustees. 

A  beautiful  spring  morning  dawned   on   Dry 


42  ADDED  UPON 

Bench.  A  cool  breeze  came  from  the  mountains  and 
played  with  the  young  leaves  of  the  orchard.  The 
apricots  were  white  with  blossoms,  and  the  plums 
and  peaches  were  just  bursting  into  masses  of  pink 
and  white.  The  alfalfa  and  wheat  fields  were  beau 
tifully  green.  Blessed  Morning,  what  a  life  pro 
moter,  what  a  dispeller  of  fears  and  bringer  of  hopes, 
thou  art! 

Rupert  was  out  early.  After  tossing  some  hay 
to  the  horses  and  cows,  he  shouldered  his  shovel 
and  strode  up  the  ditch,  whistling  as  he  went.  His 
straw  hat  set  well  back  on  his  head.  His  blue 
"jumper"  met  the  blue  overalls  which  were  tucked 
into  a  pair  of  heavy  boots.  His  tune  was  a  merry 
one  and  rang  out  over  the  still  fields  and  up  to  the 
hills. 

Rupert's  thoughts  were  a  mixture  that  morn 
ing,  and  flew  from  one  thing  to  another:  the  ditch 
which  he  was  to  clean  and  repair;  the  condition  of 
the  reservoir;  the  meeting  of  the  school  board;  the 
planting  of  the  garden;  the  dance  at  the  hall  in 
town;  the  wonderful  spreading  properties  of  weeds 
— so  on  from  one  subject  to  another,  until  he  came 
to  a  standstill,  leaning  on  his  shovel  and  looking 
over  his  farm  and  down  to  the  town,  fast  growing 
into  a  city.  From  a  hundred  chimneys  smoke  was 
beginning  to  come,  befouling  the  clear  air  of  the 
valley. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  sight,"  said  he  to  himself. 
"Six  years  ago  and  what  was  it?  Under  whose  hand 
has  this  change  grown?  Mine.  I  have  done  most 
of  the  work,  and  I  can  lawfully  claim  most  of  the 


ADDED  UPON  43 

credit.  Then  it  was  worthless,  and  just  the  other 
day  I  was  offered  five  thousand  dollars  for  the  place. 
That's  pretty  good.  Father  couldn't  have  done  any 
better." 

Rupert  was  not  given  to  boasting,  but  it  did 
seem  lately  that  everything  he  set  his  hand  to  pros 
pered  exceedingly.  This  had  brought  some  self- 
exalting  thoughts  into  his  mind;  not  that  he  talked 
of  them  to  others,  but  he  communed  with  them  to 
himself,  nevertheless. 

That  morning,  as  he  rested  his  chin  on  his 
hands  that  clasped  the  end  of  his  shovel,  such 
thoughts  swelled  the  pride  in  his  heart,  and  his  work 
was  left  undone.  The  sun  came  suddenly  from  be 
hind  the  peak  and  flooded  the  valley  with  light;  still 
Rupert  stood  looking  over  the  fields.  In  the  dis 
tance  towards  the  left  he  caught  sight  of  a  horse 
and  buggy  coming  at  a  good  pace  along  the  new 
country  road.  He  watched  it  drawing  nearer.  A 
lady  was  driving.  Her  horse  was  on  its  mettle  this 
morning  and  the  reins  were  tight.  They  were  at 
that  ugly  place  where  the  road  crosses  the  canal — 
he  was  to  repair  it  that  morning — He  awoke  from 
his  dreaming  with  a  start,  but  too  late;  the  horse 
shied,  a  wheel  went  into  the  ugly  hole,  and  the 
occupant  was  pitched  into  the  dry  bottom  of  the 
canal.  Rupert  ran  down  the  road  shouting  "whoa" 
to  the  horse  which  galloped  past  him.  The  lady 
scrambled  up  before  Rupert  reached  her. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  he  inquired. 

"No — no,  sir,"  she  managed  to  say.    She  was 


44  ADDED  UPON 

pale  and  trembling.  "Can  you  catch  my  horse?  1 
think  he  will  stop  at  that  barn." 

"I'll  get  your  horse,  never  fear;  just  so  you're 
not  hurt.  Let  me  help  you  out  of  the  ditch." 

She  held  out  a  gloved  hand  and  he  assisted  her 
up  the  bank.  She  was  just  a  girl,  and  he  could  have 
carried  her  home,  had  it  been  necessary. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  but  could  you  get  my  horse, 
please?  There,  he  is  stopping  at  that  house." 

"That  is  where  I  live.  I'll  bring  him  to  you, 
if  you  will  wait." 

"Oh,  thanks;  but  I  can  walk  that  far.  The  fall 
has  just  shaken  me  up  a  little.  I  shall  soon  get 
over  it. 

They  walked  down  the  road  to  the  gate. 

"You  must  come  in  and  rest,"  said  he,  "and 
I'll  take  care  of  your  horse."  She  remonstrated, 
but  he  insisted,  and  brought  her  into  the  kitchen 
where  his  mother  was  busy  with  breakfast.  Rupert 
explained,  and  his  mother  instantly  became  solicit 
ous.  She  drew  a  rocking  chair  up  to  the  fire  and 
with  gentle  force  seated  the  stranger,  continuously 
asking  questions  and  exclaiming, "Too  bad,  too  bad." 

Rupert  readily  caught  the  runaway  animal,  and, 
leading  him  into  the  yard,  fastened  and  fed  him. 

"Take  off  your  hat,  Miss,"  said  Mrs.  Ames, 
"your  head'll  feel  easier.  I  know  it  must  ache  with 
such  a  knock  as  that.  I  believe  you're  cold,  too. 
Put  your  feet  on  the  hearth — or  here,  I'll  open  the 
oven  door — there!  You  must  take  a  cup  of  coffee 
with  us.  It'll  warm  you.  You  haven't  had  break 
fast  yet,  I  dare  say." 


ADDED  UPON  45 

The  stranger  thanked  her  and  leaned  back  in 
the  chair  quite  content.  The  fall  had  really  shaken 
her  severely  and  a  pain  shot,  now  and  then,  into 
her  head.  Rupert  foolishly  fidgeted  about  outside 
before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  to  come  in.  Nina 
now  made  her  appearance.  The  coffee  was  poured 
out  and  the  stranger  was  invited  to  sit  up.  Once, 
twice,  Mrs.  Ames  spoke  to  her,  but  she  sat  perfectly 
still.  Her  face  was  pale,  her  eyes  half  closed. 

"What's  the  matter,  Miss?"  asked  the  mother, 
looking  into  the  girl's  face. 

"Mother,  I  believe  she  has  fainted,"  said  Nina. 

The  three  bent  over  the  still  form.  Mrs.  Ames 
rubbed  the  cold  hands,  Nina  became  nervous,  and 
Rupert  looked  down  into  the  pale,  beautiful  face. 

"Yes,  she  has  fainted.  It  is  too  warm  in  here. 
We  must  get  her  in  the  sitting-room  on  the  sofa. 
Rupert,  help  us." 

Rupert  stood  at  a  distance.  The  mother  and 
Nina  tried  to  lift  her,  but  they  failed. 

"You'll  have  to  carry  her  in,  Rupert.  Come, 
don't  stand  there  as  if  you  couldn't  move.  It's  too 
close  in  this  kitchen." 

But  the  young  fellow  still  hesitated.  To  take 
a  strange,  fair  girl  in  his  arms — such  a  thing  he 
had  never  done — but  he  must  do  so  now.  He  put 
his  strong  arms  under  her  and  lifted  her  as  he  would 
a  child,  and  carried  her  into  the  next  room,  where 
he  laid  his  burden  on  the  sofa.  The  cool  air  had 
its  effect,  and  she  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  into 
the  faces  that  were  bent  over  her. 


46  ADDED  UPON 

"Lie  still,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ames.  "You 
have  been  hurt  more  than  you  think." 

"Did  I  faint? — yes,  I  must  have — but  I'm  not 
hurt."  She  tried  to  rise,  but  with  a  moan  she  sank 
back  on  the  pillow  which  Nina  had  brought. 

"I'll  go  for  the  doctor,"  said  Rupert,  and  off  he 
went.  When  he  and  Doctor  Chase  came  in  an  hour 
later,  the  girl  was  again  sitting  at  the  table  with 
Mrs.  Ames  and  Nina. 

"I  met  with  a  slight  accident  down  the  road," 
she  explained  to  the  doctor.  "I  wasn't  quite  killed, 
you  see,  but  these  good  people  are  trying  to  finish 
me  with  their  kindness;"  and  she  laughed  merrily. 

Her  name  was  Miss  Wilton.  She  was  a  school 
teacher,  and  was  on  her  way  to  answer  an  adver 
tisement  of  the  Dry  Bench  trustees  for  a  teacher. 
She  hoped  the  doctor  would  pronounce  her  all  right 
that  she  might  continue  her  journey,  as  she  under 
stood  it  was  not  far. 

"You  have  had  a  severe  shaking  up,  Miss  Wil 
ton,  but  I  don't  think  you  need  to  postpone  your 
journey  more  than  a  few  hours,"  was  the  doctor's 
decision. 

About  noon,  Rupert  drove  Miss  Wilton's  horse 
around  to  the  front  door  and  delivered  it  to  her. 
With  a  profusion  of  thanks,  she  drove  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  chairman  of  the  school  trustees. 
Neither  Nina  nor  her  mother  had  said  anything  about 
Rupert's  being  on  the  board.  Mrs.  Ames  had  once 
seemed  to  broach  the  subject,  but  a  look  from 
Rupert  was  enough  to  check  her.  When  the  school 
teacher  disappeared  down  the  road,  Rupert  again 


ADDED  UPON  47 

shouldered  his  shovel,  and  this  time  the  ugly  hole 
where  the  road  crossed  the  canal  was  mended.  That 
done,  he  returned  home,  hitched  a  horse  to  his  car, 
and  drove  to  town. 

Ill 

"Favor  is  deceitful  and  beauty  is  vain." — Psalms  31:30. 

Miss  Virginia  Wilton  was  engaged  to  teach  the 
spring  term  of  school  at  the  Dry  Bench  schoolhouse. 
Why  that  upland  strip  bordering  the  mountains 
should  be  called  "Dry  Bench,"  Miss  Wilton,  at  first, 
did  not  understand.  If  there  was  a  garden  spot  in 
this  big,  ofttimes  barren  Western  country,  more 
beautiful  than  Dry  Bench,  she  had  in  all  her  ram 
bles  failed  to  find  it.  But  when  the  secret  of  tha 
big  reservoir  up  in  the  hills  came  to  her  knowledge, 
she  wondered  the  more;  and  one  member  of  the 
school  board  from  that  moment  rose  to  a  higher 
place  in  her  estimation;  yes,  went  past  a  long  row 
of  friends,  up,  shall  it  be  said  to  the  seat  of  honor? 

Miss  Wilton  gave  general  satisfaction,  and  she 
was  engaged  for  the  next  school  year. 

For  one  whole  year,  the  school  teacher  had 
passed  the  Ames  farm  twice  each  day.  She  called 
often  on  Mrs.  Ames,  and  Nina  became  her  fast 
friend.  During  those  cool  May  mornings  and  after 
noons,  when  the  sky  was  cloudless  and  the  breeze 
came  from  the  mountains,  the  young  school  teacher 
passed  up  and  down  the  road  and  fell  to  looking 
with  pleasure  on  the  beautiful  fields  and  orchards 


48  ADDED  UPON 

around  her,  and  especially  at  the  Ames  farm  the 
central  and  most  flourishing  of  them  all.  Perhaps 
it  would  not  be  fair  to  analyze  her  thoughts  too 
closely.  She  was  yet  young,  only  twenty-two  — 
Rupert's  own  age;  yet  Miss  Wilton's  experiences  in 
this  world's  school  were  greater  than  that  of  the 
simple  young  farmer's. 

Had  she  designs  on  the  Ames  farm  and  its  mas 
ter?  She  had  been  in  the  place  a  year  only.  How 
could  such  thoughts  arise  within  such  a  little  head? 
How  could  such  serious  schemes  brood  behind  such 
laughing  lips  and  sparkling  eyes?  Strange  that 
such  should  be  the  case,  but  truth  is  ofttimes 
strange. 

Since  the  railroad  had  been  extended  through 
the  valley,  the  town  of  Willowby  had  grown  won 
derfully.  Its  long,  straight  streets  enclosing  the 
rectangular  squares,  had  not  crept,  but  had  sped 
swiftly  out  into  the  country  on  all  sides,  and  espe 
cially  towards  the  mountains,  until  now  the  Ames 
place  was  within  the  corporated  city  limits.  Wil 
lowby  soon  became  a  shipping  point  for  grain  and 
fruits  to  the  markets  which  the  mining  towns  to  the 
north  afforded.  The  Ames  orchard  consisted  of 
the  finest  fruits  which  commanded  a  high  price. 
Yes,  the  property  was  fast  making  its  owners  rich. 

Rupert  Ames  was  a  "rising  young  man,"  lack 
ing  the  finished  polish  of  a  higher  education,  no 
doubt,  but  still,  he  was  no  "green-horn."  Even  Miss 
Wilton  had  to  acknowledge  that,  when  she  became 
acquainted  so  that  she  could  speak  freely  with  him. 
He  was  a  shrewd  business  man  and  knew  how  to 


ADDED  UPON  49 

invest  his  growing  bank  account.  It  was  no  secret 
that  city  lots  and  business  property  were  continually 
being  added  to  his  possessions. 

As  to  home  life  at  the  farm,  Miss  Wilton  was 
always  charmed  with  the  kind  hearted  mother,  the 
bright,  cheerful  Nina,  and  the  handsome,  sober  head 
of  the  family.  Such  a  beautiful  spirit  of  harmony 
brooded  over  the  place!  Even  within  the  year,  the 
observant  young  woman  could  see  signs  of  culture 
and  coming  wealth.  The  repairing  of  old  buildings, 
and  the  erecting  of  the  new  ones;  the  repainting  and 
decorating  of  rooms;  the  addition  of  costly  pic 
tures  and  furniture;  the  beautifying  of  the  outside 
surroundings — all  this  was  observed,  and  a  mental 
note  taken. 

For  a  time  Rupert  Ames  was  quite  reserved  in 
the  presence  of  the  young  school  teacher.  Naturally 
reticent,  he  was  more  than  ever  shy  in  the  company 
of  an  educated  lady  from  the  East.  Rupert  never 
saw  her  but  he  thought  of  the  day  of  her  arrival  on 
Dry  Bench  and  the  time  when  he  held  her  in  his 
arms.  Never  had  he  referred  to  the  latter  part  of 
the  episode,  though  she  often  talked  of  her  peculiar 
introduction  to  them. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year,  Miss  Wilton  had 
so  far  shown  that  she  was  but  common  flesh  and 
blood  that  Rupert  had  been  in  her  company  to  a 
number  of  socials,  and  they  had  walked  from  church 
a  few  times  together.  Dame  gossip  at  once  mated 
the  two,  and  pronounced  it  a  fine  match. 

Early  in  September  they  had  a  peach  party  at 
the  Ames  farm.  Willowby's  young  folks  were  there, 


50  ADDED  UPON 

and  having  a  good  time.  When  the  sun  sank  behind 
the  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  and  the  cool 
air  came  from  the  eastern  mountains,  Chinese  lan 
terns  were  hung  on  the  trees,  and  chairs  and  tables 
were  placed  on  the  lawn.  There  were  cake  and  ice 
cream  and  peaches — peaches  of  all  kinds,  large  and 
small,  white  and  yellow,  juicy  and  dry;  for  this  was 
a  peach  party,  and  everybody  was  supposed  to  eat, 
at  least,  half  a  dozen. 

The  band,  with  Volmer  Holm  as  leader,  fur 
nished  the  music;  and  beautiful  it  was,  as  it  echoed 
from  the  porch  out  over  the  assembly  on  the  lawn. 
When  the  strains  of  a  waltz  floated  out,  a  dozen 
couples  glided  softly  over  the  velvety  grass. 

"That's  fine  music,  Volmer,"  Rupert  was  say 
ing  to  the  bandmaster,  as  the  music  ceased. 

"Do  you  think  so?  We've  practiced  very  much 
since  our  new  organization  was  effected.  Will  it  do 
for  a  concert?" 

"You  know  I'm  no  judge  of  music.  I  like  yours, 
though,  Volmer.  What  do  you  say  about  it,  Miss 
Wilton?  Mr.  Holm  wishes  to  know  if  his  music  is 
fit  for  a  concert?" 

"Most  certainly  it  is,"  answered  the  young  lady 
addressed,  as  she  stepped  up  with  an  empty  peach 
basket.  "Mr.  Holm,  I  understand  that  last  piece  is 
your  own  composition?  If  so,  I  must  congratulate 
you;  it  is  most  beautiful." 

"Thank  you,"  and  he  bowed  as  he  gave  the 
signal  to  begin  again. 

"Mr.  Ames,  more  peaches  are  wanted — the  big 
yellow  ones.  Where  shall  I  find  them?" 


ADDED  UPON  51 

"I'll  get  some — or,  I'll  go  with  you."  He  was 
getting  quite  bold.  Perhaps  the  music  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  that. 

He  did  not  take  the  basket,  but  led  the  way  out 
into  the  orchard.  It  was  quite  a  distance  to  the 
right  tree. 

"That  is  beautiful  music,"  said  she.  "Mr.  Holm 
is  a  genius.  He'll  make  his  mark  if  he  keeps  on." 

"Yes,  I  understand  that  he  is  going  East  to 
study.  That  will  bring  him  out  if  there  is  any 
thing  in  him." 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation;  then 
Rupert  remarked  carefully,  as  if  feeling  his  way: 

"Yes,  there's  talent  in  Volmer,  but  he  makes 
music  his  god,  which  I  think  is  wrong." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  she  asked. 

What  that  expression  meant,  it  was  hard  to  say. 

"Yes,  I  think  that  no  man  should  so  drown  him 
self  in  one  thing  that  he  is  absolutely  dead  to  every 
thing  else.  Mr.  Holm  does  that.  Volmer  worships 
nothing  but  music." 

Rupert  filled  the  basket  and  they  sauntered 
back. 

"A  more  beautiful  god  I  cannot  imagine,"  she 
said,  half  aloud. 

Rupert  turned  with  an  inquiring  look  on  his 
face,  but  he  got  nothing  more  from  her,  as  she  was 
busy  with  a  peach.  Her  straw  hat  was  tilted  back 
on  her  head,  and  the  wavy  brown  hair  was  some 
what  in  confusion.  School  teaching  had  not,  as  yet, 
driven  the  roses  from  her  cheeks,  nor  the  smiles 
from  her  lips.  There  was  just  enough  of  daylight 


52  ADDED  UPON 

left  so  that  Rupert  could  see  Miss  Wilton's  big  eyes 
looking  into  his  own.  How  beautiful  she  was! 

"Mr.  Ames,  before  we  get  back  to  the  company, 
I  wish  to  ask  you  a  question.  Mr.  Holm  has  asked 
me  to  sing  at  his  concert,  and  I  should  like  to  help 
him,  if  the  school  trustees  do  not  object." 

"Why  should  they,  Miss  Wilton?" 

"Well,  some  people,  you  know,  are  so  peculiar." 

"I  assure  you  they  will  not  care — that  is,  if  it 
will  not  interfere  with  your  school  duties." 

"As  to  that,  not  a  moment.  I  need  no  rehears 
als  as  I  am  used  to — that  is  I — you  see,  I  will  sing 
some  old  song." 

Miss  Wilton's  speech  became  unusually  con 
fused,  and  Rupert  noticed  it;  but  just  then  Nina 
and  her  escort  joined  them,  and  they  all  went  back 
to  the  lawn. 

"Miss  Wilton's  going  to  sing  at  the  concert," 
Volmer  told  Rupert  later  in  the  evening.  "  'Twill 
be  a  big  help.  She's  a  regular  opera  singer,  you 
know.  She's  been  in  the  business.  I  heard  her  sing 
in  Denver  two  years  ago,  and  she  was  with  a  troupe 
that  passed  through  here  some  time  since.  I  remem 
ber  her  well,  but  of  course  I  wouldn't  say  anything 
to  her  about  it.  No  doubt  she  wishes  to  forget  it 
all." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Rupert,  quite 
fiercely. 

"I  mean  that  her  company  then  was  not  of  the 
choicest,  but  I  believe  she's  all  right  and  a  good 
enough  girl.  Rupe,  don't  bother  about  that.  Per 
haps  I  shouldn't  have  said  anything  to  you." 


ADDED  UPON  53 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  I'm  glad  you  mentioned 
it." 

Still  a  dull,  miserable  pain  fastened  itself  in 
Rupert  Ames'  heart  the  rest  of  the  evening;  and 
even  when  the  company  had  gone,  and  Miss  Wilton 
had  lingered  and  sweetly  said  "Good-night,"  and 
the  lights  were  out,  strange  thoughts  and  feelings 
drove  from  his  eyes  the  sleep  that  usually  came 
peacefully  to  him. 

Rupert  Ames  was  in  love.  The  fact  became 
the  central  idea  of  his  existence. 

During  Rupert's  busy  life,  love  affairs  had  not 
occupied  much  of  his  attention.  Of  course,  he,  in 
common  with  the  rest  of  young  mankind,  thought 
that  some  day  he  would  love  some  girl  and  make 
her  his  wife;  but  it  was  always  as  a  far-away  dream 
to  him,  connected  with  an  angelic  perfection  which 
he  always  found  missing  in  the  workaday  world. 
His  wife  must  be  a  pure,  perfect  creature.  Mar 
riage  was  a  sacred  thing — one  of  the  great  events 
in  a  person's  life.  Not  that  these  views  had  now 
changed  altogether,  for  Miss  Virginia  Wilton  came 
nearer  his  ideal  than  anyone  he  had  yet  met.  Still, 
there  was  considerable  of  the  tangible  present  about 
her.  She  was  educated,  businesslike,  and  a  leader, 
and  he,  ambitious  of  attaining  to  something  in  the 
world,  would  need  such  a  woman  for  his  wife.  But 
that  sting  which  Volmer  Holm  had  given  him!  His 
wife  must  be  beyond  suspicion.  He  could  not  afford 
to  make  a  mistake,  for  if  he  did,  it  would  be  the 
mistake  of  his  life.  But  was  it  a  sin  for  a  girl  to 
sing  in  an  opera?  Certainly  not.  Anyway,  he 


54  ADDED  UPON 

would  not  condemn  her  unheard — and  then,  he  was 
sure  he  loved  her.  It  had  come  to  him  unbidden. 
It  was  no  fault  of  his  that  this  girl  should  have 
come  into  his  common  life,  and,  seemingly,  com 
pletely  change  it. 

The  autumn  days  passed.  With  the  work  of 
harvesting  and  marketing  there  was  no  time  for 
social  gatherings.  The  school  teacher  had  changed 
her  boarding  place,  and  her  path  lay  no  longer  past 
the  Ames  farm.  So  Rupert  mingled  his  thoughts 
with  his  labors,  and  in  time  there  emerged  from 
that  fusion  a  fixed  purpose. 

That  fall  Rupert's  time  as  school  trustee  ex 
pired.  At  the  first  meeting  of  the  new  board,  Miss 
Wilton's  position  was  given  to  a  male  teacher.  The 
reason  given  for  the  change  was  that  "It  takes  a 
man  to  govern  boys."  Other  reasons,  however, 
could  be  heard  in  the  undercurrent  of  talk. 

The  first  Sunday  after  he  heard  of  it,  Rupert 
found  Miss  Wilton,  and  together  they  walked  up 
the  canyon  road.  It  was  a  dull,  cloudy  day,  and  not 
a  breath  moved  the  odorous  choke-cherry  bushes 
which  lined  the  dusty  road.  Never  mind  what  was 
said  and  done  that  afternoon.  'Tis  an  old,  old  story. 
Between  woman's  smiles  and  tears,  the  man  gained 
hope  and  courage,  and  when  that  evening  they  came 
down  the  back  way  through  the  fields  and  orchards, 
Virginia  Wilton  was  Rupert  Ames'  promised  wife. 


ADDED  UPON  55 

IV. 

"0  Lord,  lead  me  in  a  plain  path." — Isaiah  27:11. 

The  scene  shifts  to  a  land  afar  off  toward  the 
north,  Norway — away  up  into  one  of  its  mountain 
meadows.  The  landscape  is  a  mixture  of  grandeur 
and  beauty.  Hills  upon  hills,  covered  with  pine  and 
fir,  stretch  away  from  the  lowlands  to  the  distant 
glacier-clad  mountains,  and  patches  of  green  mead 
ow  gleam  through  the  dark  pine  depths. 

The  clear  blue  sky  changes  to  a  faint  haze  in 
the  hilly  distance.  The  gentle  air  is  perfumed  with 
the  odor  of  the  forest.  A  Sabbath  stillness  broods 
over  all.  The  sun  has  swung  around  to  the  north 
west,  and  skims  along  the  horizon  as  if  loth  to  leave 
such  a  sweet  scene. 

Evening  was  settling  down  on  the  Norwegian 
saeter,  or  summer  herd  ground.  Riding  along  the 
trail  through  the  pines  appeard  a  young  man.  He 
was  evidently  not  at  home  in  the  forest,  as  he  peered 
anxiously  through  every  opening.  His  dress  and 
bearing  indicated  that  he  was  not  a  woodsman  nor 
a  herder  of  cattle.  Pausing  on  a  knoll,  he  surveyed 
the  scene  around  him,  and  took  off  his  hat  that  the 
evening  breeze  might  cool  his  face.  Suddenly,  there 
came  echoing  through  the  forest,  from  hill  to  hill, 
the  deep  notes  of  the  lur.  The  traveler  listened, 
and  then  urged  his  horse  forward.  Again  and  again 
the  blast  reverberated,  the  notes  dying  in  low  echoes 
on  the  distant  hills.  From  another  rise,  the  rider 


56  ADDED  UPON 

saw  the  girl  who  was  making  all  this  wild  music. 
She  was  standing  on  a  high  knoll.  Peering  down 
into  the  forest,  she  recognized  the  traveler  and  wel 
comed  him  with  an  attempt  at  a  tune  on  her  long, 
wooden  trumpet. 

"Good  evening,  Hansine,"  said  he,  as  his  horse 
scrambled  up  the  path  close  by,  "your  lur  made  wel 
come  music  this  evening." 

"Good  evening,  Hr.  Bogstad,"  said  she,  "are 
you  not  lost?" 

"I  was,  nearly,  until  I  heard  you  calling  your 
cows.  It  is  a  long  way  up  here — but  the  air  and 
the  scenery  are  grand." 

"Yes,  do  you  think  so?  I  don't  know  anything 
about  what  they  call  grand  scenery.  I've  always 
lived  up  here,  and  it's  work,  work  all  the  time — 
but  those  cows  are  slow  coming  home."  She  lifted 
her  lur  to  her  lips  and  once  more  made  the  woods 
ring. 

Down  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  where  the  pines 
gave  place  to  small,  grassy  openings,  stood  a  group 
of  log  huts,  towards  which  the  cows  were  now  seen 
wending. 

"Come,  Hr.  Bogstad,  I  see  the  cows  are  coming. 
I  must  go  down  to  meet  them." 

They  went  down  the  hill  together.  The  lowing 
cows  came  up  to  the  stables,  and  as  the  herd  grew 
larger  there  was  a  deafening  din.  A  girl  was  stand 
ing  in  the  doorway  of  one  of  the  cabins,  timidly 
watching  the  noisy  herd. 

"Come,  give  the  cows  their  salt,"  laughingly 
shouted  Hansine  to  her. 


ADDED  UPON  57 

"And  get  hooked  all  to  pieces?     Not  much." 

"You  little  coward.  What  good  would  you  be 
on  a  saetert  What  do  you  think,  Hr.  Bogstad?" 

As  the  girl  caught  sight  of  the  new  arrival  she 
started  and  the  color  came  to  her  face.  He  went 
up  to  her.  "How  are  you,  Signe?"  he  said.  "How 
do  you  like  life  on  a  saeterV 

"Well,  I  hardly  know,"  she  said,  seemingly 
quite  embarrassed. 

"Oh,  I'll  tell  you,"  broke  in  the  busy  Hansine, 
as  she  came  with  a  pail  full  of  salt.  "She  just  goes 
around  and  looks  at  and  talks  about  what  she  calls 
the  beauties  of  nature.  That  she  likes;  but  as  for 
milking,  or  churning,  or  making  cheese,  well — " 

Then  they  all  laughed  good  naturedly. 

Hansine  was  a  large,  strong  girl,  with  round, 
pleasant  features.  She  and  the  cows  were  good 
friends.  At  the  sound  of  the  lur  every  afternoon 
the  cows  turned  their  grazing  heads  towards  home, 
and,  on  their  arrival,  each  was  given  a  pat  and  a 
handful  of  salt.  Then  they  went  quietly  into  their 
stalls. 

It  was  quite  late  that  evening  before  the  milk 
had  been  strained  into  the  wooden  platters  and 
placed  in  rows  on  the  shelves  in  the  milk  house. 
Hr.  Bogstad  and  Signe  had  proffered  their  help, 
but  they  had  been  ordered  into  the  house  and  Signe 
was  told  to  prepare  the  evening  meal.  When  Han 
sine  came  in,  she  found  the  table  set  with  the  cheese, 
milk,  butter,  and  black  bread,  while  Signe  and  Hr. 
Bogstad  sat  by  the  large  fireplace  watching  a  pot 
of  boiling  cream  mush. 


58  ADDED  UPON 

The  object  of  Hr.  Bogstad's  visit  was  plain 
enough.  He  had  been  devoting  his  attentions  to 
Signe  Dahl  for  some  time,  and  now  that  he  was 
home  from  college  on  a  vacation,  it  was  natural  that 
he  should  follow  her  from  the  village  up  to  the 
mountains. 

Hr.  Bogstad,  though  young,  was  one  of  the  rich 
men  of  Nordal.  He  had  lately  fallen  heir  to  a  large 
estate.  In  fact,  Signe's  parents,  with  a  great  many 
more,  were  but  tenants  of  young  Hr.  Henrik  Bog 
stad;  and  although  it  was  considered  a  great  honor 
to  have  the  attentions  of  such  a  promising  young 
man — for,  in  fact,  Henrik  was  quite  exemplary  in 
all  things,  and  had  a  good  name  in  the  neighbor 
hood — still  Signe  Dahl  did  not  care  for  him,  and 
was  uneasy  in  his  company.  She  would  rather  sail 
with  some  of  the  fisher  boys  on  the  lake  than  be  the 
object  of  envy  by  her  companions.  But  Signe's 
slim,  graceful  form,  large  blue  eyes,  clear,  dimpled 
face,  light  silken  hair,  combined  with  a  native  grace 
and  beauty,  attracted  not  only  the  fisher  boys  but 
the  "fine"  Hr.  Bogstad  also.  She  was  now  spend 
ing  a  few  days  with  her  cousin  Hansine  in  the 
mountains.  Her  limited  knowledge  of  saeter  life 
was  fast  being  augmented  under  her  cousin's  super 
vision,  notwithstanding  Hansine's  remarks  about 
her  inabilities. 

The  cabin  wherein  the  three  were  seated  was 
of  the  rudest  kind,  but  everything  was  scrupulously 
clean.  The  blazing  pine  log  cast  a  red  light  over 
them  as  they  sat  at  the  table. 


ADDED  UPON  59 

"So  you  see  nothing  grand  in  your  surround 
ings?"  asked  Hr.  Bogstad  of  Hansine. 

"How  can  I?  I  have  never  been  far  from  home. 
Mountains  and  forests  and  lakes  are  all  I  know." 

"True,"  said  he,  "and  we  can  see  grandeur  and 
beauty  by  contrast  only." 

"But  here  is  Signe,"  remarked  Hansine;  "she 
has  never  seen  much  of  the  world,  yet  you  should 
hear  her.  I  can  never  get  her  interested  in  my  cows. 
Her  mind  must  have  been  far  away  when  she  dished 
up  the  mush,  for  she  has  forgotten  something." 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon,"  exclaimed  the  forgetful 
girl.  "Let  me  attend  to  it." 

She  went  to  the  cupboard  and  brought  out  the 
sugar  and  a  paper  of  ground  cinnamon,  and  sprin 
kled  a  layer  of  each  over  the  plates  of  mush.  Then 
she  pressed  into  the  middle  of  each  a  lump  of  but 
ter  which  soon  melted  into  a  tiny  yellow  pond. 

"I  should  like  to  hear  some  of  these  ideas  of 
yours,"  remarked  the  visitor  to  Signe,  who  had  so 
far  forgotten  her  manners  as  to  be  blowing  her 
spoonful  of  mush  before  dipping  it  into  the  butter. 

"I  wish  I  were  an  artist,"  said  she,  without 
seeming  to  notice  his  remarks.  "Ah,  what  pictures 
I  would  paint!  I  would  make  them  so  natural  that 
you  could  see  the  pine  tops  wave,  and  smell  the 
breath  of  the  woods  as  you  looked  at  them." 

"You  would  put  me  in,  standing  on  The  Look 
out  blowing  my  lur,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Certainly." 

"And  I  have  no  doubt  that  we  could  hear  the 


60  ADDED  UPON 

echoes  ringing  over  the  hills,"  continued  Hansine, 
soberly. 

"Never  mind,  you  needn't  make  fun.  Yes,  Hr. 
Bogstad,  I  think  we  have  some  grand  natural  scenes. 
I  often  climb  up  on  the  hills,  and  sit  and  look  over 
the  pines  and  the  shining  lake  down  towards  home. 
Then,  sometimes,  I  can  see  the  ocean  like  a  silver 
ribbon,  lying  on  the  horizon.  I  sit  up  there  and  gaze 
and  think,  as  Hansine  says,  nearly  all  night.  I  seem 
to  be  under  a  spell.  You  know  it  doesn't  get  dark 
all  night  now,  and  the  air  is  so  delicious.  My 
thoughts  go  out  'Over  the  high  mountains/  as  Bjorn- 
son  says,  and  I  want  to  be  away  to  hear  and  see 
what  the  world  is  and  has  to  tell  me.  A  kind  of 
sweet  loneliness  comes  over  me  which  I  cannot  ex 
plain." 

Hr.  Bogstad  had  finished  his  dish.  He,  too,  was 
under  a  spell — the  spell  of  a  soft,  musical  voice. 

"Then  the  light  in  the  summer,"  she  continued. 
"How  I  have  wished  to  go  north  where  the  sun 
shines  the  whole  twenty-four  hours.  Have  you  ever 
seen  the  Midnight  Sun,  Hr.  Bogstad?" 

"No;  but  I  have  been  thinking  of  taking  a  trip 
up  there  this  summer,  if  I  can  get  some  good  com 
pany  to  go  with  me.  Wouldn't  you — " 

It  was  then  that  Signe  hurriedly  pushed  her 
chair  away  and  said:  "Thanks  for  the  food." 

Next  morning  Signe  was  very  busy.  She 
washed  the  wooden  milk  basins,  scalded  them  with 
juniper  tea,  and  then  scoured  them  with  sand.  She 
churned  the  butter  and  wanted  to  help  with  the 
cheese,  but  Hansine  thought  that  she  was  not  pay- 


ADDED  UPON  61 

ing  enough  attention  to  their  visitor,  so  she  ordered 
her  off  to  her  lookout  on  the  mountain.  Hr.  Bog- 
stad  would  help  her  up  the  steep  places;  besides, 
he  could  tell  her  the  names  of  the  ferns  and  flowers, 
and  answer  the  thousand  and  one  questions  which 
she  was  always  asking.  So,  of  course,  they  had 
to  go. 

But  Signe  was  very  quiet,  and  Henrik  said  but 
little.  He  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  truly 
loved  this  girl  whose  parents  were  among  the  poor 
est  of  his  tenants.  None  other  of  his  acquaintances, 
even  among  the  higher  class,  charmed  him  as  did 
Signe.  He  was  old  enough  to  marry,  and  she  was 
not  too  young.  He  knew  full  well  that  if  he  did 
marry  her,  many  of  his  friends  would  criticise;  but 
Henrik  had  some  of  the  Norseman  spirit  of  liberty, 
and  he  did  not  think  that  a  girl's  humble  position 
barred  her  from  him.  True,  he  had  received  very 
little  encouragement  from  her,  though  her  parents 
had  looked  with  favor  upon  him.  And  now  he  was 
thinking  of  her  cold  indifference. 

They  sat  down  on  a  rocky  bank,  carpeted  with 
gray  reindeer  moss. 

They  had  been  talking  of  his  experiences  at 
school.  He  knew  her  desire  to  finish  the  college 
education  cut  short  by  a  lack  of  means. 

"Signe,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  do  you  a  favor." 

She  thought  for  a  moment  before  she  asked 
what  it  was. 

"Let  me  help  you  attend  college.  You  know 
I  am  able  to,  besides — besides,  some  day  you  may 


62  ADDED  UPON 

learn  to  think  as  much  of  me  as  I  do  of  you,  and 
then,  dear  Signe — " 

Signe  arose.  "Hr.  Bogstad,"  she  said,  "I  wish 
you  would  not  talk  like  that.  If  you  do,  I  shall  go 
back  to  Hansine." 

"Why,  Signe,  don't  be  offended.  I  am  not  jest 
ing."  He  stood  before  her  in  the  path,  and  would 
have  taken  her  hand,  but  she  drew  back. 

"Signe,  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  of  you  for 
a  long  time.  You  know  we  have  been  boy  and  girl 
together.  My  absence  at  school  has  made  no  dif 
ference  in  me.  I  wish  you  could  think  a  little  of 
me,  Signe." 

"Hr.  Bogstad,  I  don't  believe  in  deceiving  any 
one.  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  been  thinking  like 
that  about  me,  because  I  cannot  think  of  you  other 
than  as  a  friend.  Let  us  not  talk  about  it." 

If  Henrik  could  not  talk  about  that  nearest  his 
heart,  he  would  remain  silent,  which  he  did. 

Signe  was  gathering  some  rare  ferns  and  mosses 
when  Hansine's  lur  sounded  through  the  hills.  That 
was  the  signal  for  them,  as  well  as  the  cows,  to 
come  home. 

Early  the  next  morning  Hansine's  brother  came 
up  to  the  saeter  to  take  home  the  week's  accumula 
tion  of  butter  and  cheese.  Signe,  perched  on  the 
top  of  the  two-wheeled  cart,  was  also  going  home. 
Hr.  Bogstad,  mounted  on  his  horse,  accompanied 
them  a  short  distance,  then  rode  off  in  another  direc 
tion. 


ADDED  UPON  63 

V. 

"Can  two  walk  together,  except  they  be  agreed?" — Amos  3:8 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  Signe  Dahl  sprang 
from  the  cart,  and  with  her  bundle  under  her  arm, 
ran  down  the  hillside  into  the  woods,  following  a 
well-beaten  trail.  That  was  the  short  cut  home. 
Hans  had  found  her  poor  company  during  the  ride, 
and  even  now,  alone  in  the  woods,  the  serious  coun 
tenance  was  loth  to  relax.  A  ten  minutes'  walk 
brought  her  to  the  brow  of  a  hill,  and  she  sauntered 
down  its  sloping  side.  Signe  had  nearly  reached 
home,  and  being  doubtful  of  her  reception  there, 
she  lingered.  Then,  too,  she  could  usually  amuse 
herself  alone,  for  she  always  found  some  new  won 
der  in  the  exhaustless  beauty  of  her  surroundings. 

She  threw  herself  on  a  green  bank,  and  this  is 
the  picture  which  she  saw:  Just  before  her,  the 
greensward  extended  down  to  a  lake,  whose  waters 
lost  themselves  behind  cliffs  and  islands  and  pine- 
clad  hills.  Here  and  there  in  the  distance  towards 
the  north,  there  could  be  seen  shining  spots  of  water; 
but  towards  the  south  the  hills  closed  in  precip 
itously,  and  left  room  only  for  the  outlet  of  the 
lake  to  pour  over  its  rocky  bed  into  another  val 
ley  below.  On  the  farther  shore,  five  miles  dis 
tant,  a  few  red  farm  houses  stood  out  from  the  plats 
of  green — all  the  rest  was  forest  and  rock.  The 
sky  was  filled  with  soft,  fleecy  clouds,  and  not  a 
breath  stirred  the  surface  of  the  lake.  Signe  gazed 
towards  a  rocky  island  before  her.  Only  the  roof 


64  ADDED  UPON 

of  the  house  upon  it  could  be  seen,  but  from  its 
chimney  arose  no  smoke.  That  was  where  Signe 
had  been  born,  and  had  lived  most  of  the  eighteen 
years  of  her  life.  The  girl  walked  down  the  hillside 
to  the  lake  and  again  seated  herself,  this  time  on  a 
rock  near  the  edge  of  the  water.  She  took  a  book 
from  her  bundle  and  began  to  read ;  but  the  text 
was  soon  embellished  with  marginal  sketches  of 
rocks  and  bits  of  scenery,  and  then  both  reading 
and  drawing  had  to  give  place  to  the  consideration 
of  the  pictures  that  came  thronging  into  her  mind. 

Hr.  Bogstad  had  actually  proposed  to  her — the 
rich  and  handsome  Hr.  Bogstad ;  and  she,  the  insig 
nificant  farmer  girl,  had  refused  him,  had  run  away 
from  him.  Signe  Dahl,  she  ruminated,  aren't  you 
the  most  foolish  child  in  the  world?  He  is  the 
owner  of  miles  and  miles  of  the  land  about  here. 
The  hills  with  their  rich  harvest  of  timber,  the 
rivers  with  their  fish,  and  even  the  island  in  the 
lake,  are  his.  To  be  mistress  over  it  all — ah,  what 
a  temptation.  If  she  had  only  loved  Hr.  Bogstad, 
if  she  had  only  liked  him ;  but  she  did  neither.  She 
could  not  explain  the  reason,  but  she  knew  that  she 
could  not  be  his  wife. 

How  could  such  a  man  love  her,  anyway  ?  Was 
she  really  so  very  good  looking  ?  Signe  looked  down 
into  the  still,  deep  water  and  saw  her  own  reflection 
asking  the  question  over  again.  There !  her  face,  at 
least,  was  but  a  little,  ordinary  pink  and  white  one. 
Her  eyes  were  of  the  common  blue  color.  Her  hair 
— well,  it  was  a  trifle  wavy  and  more  glossy  than 
that  of  other  girls,  but— gluck!  a  stone  broke 


ADDED  UPON  65 

her  mirror  into  a  hundred  circling  waves  Signe 
looked  up  with  a  start.  There  was  Hagbert  standing 
half  concealed  behind  a  bush. 

"Oh,  I  see  you,"  she  shouted. 

He  came  down  to  the  water,  grinning  good- 
naturedly. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  didn't  think  you  were  so 
vain  as  all  that." 

"Can't  a  person  look  at  the  pebbles  and  fish  at 
at  the  bottom  of  the  lake  without  being  vain?"  and 
she  laughed  her  confusion  away.  "Say,  Hagbert,  is 
your  boat  close  by?" 

"Yes,  just  down  by  the  north  landing." 

"Oh,  that's  good.  I  thought  I  would  have  to 
wait  until  father  came  this  evening  to  get  home. 
You'll  row  me  across,  won't  you?" 

"Why,  certainly;  but  I  thought  you  had  gone 
to  the  saeter  to  stay,  at  least  a  week." 

"Yes,  but — but,  I've  come  home  again,  you  see." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  and  he  looked  oddly  at  her.  He 
had  also  seen  Hr.  Bogstad  set  out  for  the  mountains 
two  days  before,  and  now  he  wondered. 

Hagbert  fetched  the  boat,  took  in  his  passenger, 
and  his  strong  arms  soon  sent  the  light  craft  to  the 
other  bank. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  Hagbert,"  she  said,  as  she 
sprang  out,  and  then  climbed  up  the  steep  path,  and 
watched  him  pull  back.  He  was  a  strong,  hand 
some  fellow,  too,  a  poor  fisherman,  yet  somehow, 
she  felt  easier  in  his  company  than  in  Hr.  Bogstad's. 

Signe  found  no  one  at  home.  Her  mother  and 
the  children  had,  no  doubt,  gone  to  the  mainland  to 


66  ADDED  UPON 

pick  blueberries;  so  she  went  out  into  the  garden 
to  finish  her  book.  She  became  so  absorbed  in  her 
reading  that  she  did  not  see  her  mother's  start  of 
surprise  when  they  came  home  with  their  baskets  full 
of  berries. 

"Well,  well,  Signe,  is  that  you?  What's  the 
matter?"  exclaimed  her  mother. 

"Nothing,  mother;  only  I  couldn't  stay  up  there 
any  longer."  And  that  was  all  the  explanation  her 
mother  could  get  until  the  father  came  home  that 
evening.  He  was  tired  and  a  little  cross.  From 
Hans  he  had  heard  a  bit  of  gossip  that  irritated  him, 
and  Signe  saw  that  her  secret  was  not  wholly  her 
own.  She  feared  her  father. 

"Signe,"  said  he,  after  supper,  "I  can  guess 
pretty  well  why  you  came  home  so  soon.  I  had  a 
talk  with  Hr.  Bogstad  before  he  went  to  the  saeter." 

The  girl's  heart  beat  rapidly,  but  she  said  noth 
ing. 

"Did  he  speak  to  you  about — why  did  you  run 
away  from  him,  girl?" 

"Father,  you  know  I  don't  like  Hr.  Bogstad.  I 
don't  know  why;  he  is  nice  and  all  that,  but  I  don't 
like  him  anyway." 

"You  have  such  nonsensical  ideas!"  exclaimed 
the  father,  and  he  paused  before  her  in  his  impatient 
pacing  back  and  forth.  "He,  the  gentleman,  the 
possessor  of  thousands.  Girl,  do  you  know  what 
you  are  doing  when  you  act  like  this?  Can't  you 
see  that  we  are  poor;  that  your  father  is  worked 
to  death  to  provide  for  you  all?  That  if  you  would 
treat  him  as  you  should,  we  would  be  lifted  out  of 


ADDED  UPON  67 

this,  and  could  get  away  from  this  rock-ribbed  island 
on  to  some  land  with  soil  on?  Our  future  would 
be  secure.  Can't  you  see  it,  girl?  0,  you  little  fool, 
for  running  away  from  such  a  man.  Don't  you 
know  he  owns  us  all,  as  it  were?" 

"No,  father,  he  does  not." 

"The  very  bread  you  eat  and  the  water  you 
drink  come  from  his  possessions." 

"Still,  he  does  not  own  us  all.  He  does  not  own 
me,  nor  shall  he  as  long  as  I  feel  as  I  do  now,  and 
as  long  as  there  is  other  land  and  other  water  and 
other  air  to  which  he  can  lay  no  claim." 

It  was  a  bold  speech,  but  something  prompted 
her  to  say  it.  She  was  aroused.  The  mother  came 
to  intercede,  for  she  knew  both  father  and  daughter 
well. 

"I  tell  you,  girl,  there  shall  be  no  more  foolish 
ness.  You  shall  do  as  I  want  you,  do  you  hear!" 

Signe  arose  to  go,  but  her  father  caught  her 
forcibly  by  the  arm. 

"Sit  down  and  listen  to  me,"  he  said. 

The  girl  began  to  cry,  and  the  mother  inter 
posed:  "Never  mind,  father;  you  know  it's  useless 
to  talk  to  her  now.  Let  her  go  and  milk  the  cow. 
It's  getting  late." 

So  Signe  escaped  with  her  pail  into  the  little 
stable  where  the  cow  had  been  awaiting  her  for 
over  an  hour.  But  she  was  a  long  time  milking, 
that  evening. 


68  ADDED  UPON 

VI. 

"Get  thee  out  of  thy  country,  and  from  thy  kindred,  and 
from  thy  father's  house,  into  a  land  that  I  will  show  thee." — 
Gen.  12:1. 

Signe  Dahl  sat  in  the  little  coupe  of  the  railroad 
train  which  was  carrying  her  to  Christiania.  She 
was  the  sole  occupant  of  the  compartment,  her 
big  valise  resting  on  the  opposite  seat.  Out  through 
the  lowered  window  she  looked  at  the  flying  land 
scape,  a  mingling  of  pine  hills,  waters,  and  green 
meadows.  An  hour  ago  she  had  boarded  the  train 
at  Holmen,  the  nearest  station  to  Nordal.  Early 
that  morning  she  had  tearfully  kissed  them  all 
good-by  and  had  begun  her  journey  to  that  haven 
of  rest  from  old  country  oppressions — America. 
She  and  her  mother  had  planned  it,  and  the  father 
had  at  last  given  his  consent.  It  was  all  the  out 
come  of  Hr.  Bogstad's  persistent  devotions  to  the 
family  on  the  island  in  the  lake. 

Tiring  of  the  scenery,  Signe  took  from  a  bun 
dle  a  letter.  It  had  been  handed  her  by  the  post 
master  at  Nordal  that  morning  as  she  drove  past, 
and  was  from  Hr.  Bogstad,  who  was  in  the  North 
with  a  party  of  tourists.  She  opened  it  and  read: 

"I  wrote  you  a  letter  about  a  week  ago,  describ 
ing  our  trip  up  to  that  time.  I  hope  you  have  re 
ceived  it.  You  know  I  have  no  eye  for  the  beauti 
ful,  but  I  did  the  best  I  could.  You  should  have 
been  along  and  seen  it  all  yourself. 

"And  now  I  write  you  again,   because,   dear 


ADDED  UPON  69 

friend,  I  have  heard  a  rumor  from  home  that  you 
are  going  to  America.  It  is  news  to  me  if  it  is  true. 
Dear  Signe,  don't.  Wait,  at  least,  until  I  can  see 
you  again,  because  I  have  something  to  tell  you 
whether  you  go  or  stay.  I  am  coming  home  as  fast 
as  steam  can  carry  me.  Please,  don't  run  off  like 
that.  Why  should  you?  I  ask  myself.  But  there, 
it's  only  rumor.  You're  not  going,  and  I'll  see  you 
again  in  a  few  days,  when  I  shall  tell  you  all  about 
the  rest  of  the  trip." 

A  smile  played  on  Signe's  face,  but  it  soon 
changed  to  a  more  sober  expression.  What  was  she 
to  cause  such  a  commotion  in  the  life  of  a  man  like 
Hr.  Bogstad?  That  he  was  in  earnest  she  knew. 
And  here  she  was  running  away  from  him.  He  would 
never  see  her  again.  How  disappointed  he  would 
be!  She  could  see  him  driving  from  the  station, 
alighting  at  the  ferry,  springing  into  a  boat,  and 
skimming  over  to  the  island.  Up  the  steep  bank 
he  climbs,  and  little  Hakon  runs  down  to  meet  him, 
for  which  he  receives  his  usual  bag  of  candy.  Per 
haps  he  gets  to  the  house  before  he  finds  out. 
Then—? 

Surely  the  smile  has  changed  to  a  tear,  for 
Signe  has  wiped  one  away  from  her  cheek. 

To  Signe,  the  journey  that  day  was  made  up 
of  strange  thoughts  and  experiences.  The  landscape, 
the  stopping  at  the  stations,  the  coming  and  go 
ing  of  people,  Hr.  Bogstad's  letter,  the  folks  at 
home,  the  uncertain  future, — all  seemed  to  mingle 
and  to  form  one  chain  of  thought,  which  ended  only 


70  ADDED  UPON 

when  the  train  rolled  into  the  glass-covered  station 
at  Christiania. 

With  a  firm  grasp  on  her  valise,  she  picked  her 
way  through  the  crowd  with  its  noise  and  bustle, 
and  placed  herself  safely  in  the  care  of  a  hackman, 
who  soon  set  her  down  at  her  lodgings. 

At  the  steamship  office  she  learned  that  the 
steamer  was  not  to  sail  for  three  days.  So  Signe 
meant  to  see  what  she  could  of  the  city.  It  was  her 
first  visit  to  the  capital,  and  perhaps  her  last.  She 
would  make  the  best  of  her  time.  She  had  no  friends 
in  the  city,  but  that  did  not  hinder  her  from  walk 
ing  out  alone.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day, 
Signe  went  to  the  art  gallery,  and  that  was  the  end  of 
her  sightseeing  to  other  parts.  She  lingered  among 
the  paintings  of  the  masters  and  the  beautiful 
chiseled  marble — the  first  she  had  seen  —  until 
the  attendant  reminded  her  that  it  was  time  to  close. 

That  evening  the  landlady  informed  her  that 
a  visitor  had  been  inquiring  for  her  during  the  day, 
a  gentleman.  Who  could  it  be?  He  was  described, 
and  then  Signe  knew  that  it  was  Hr.  Bogstad.  He 
had  said  that  he  could  call  again  in  the  evening. 

Signe  was  troubled.  What  should  she  do?  He 
was  following  her,  but  they  must  not  meet.  It 
would  do  no  good.  The  steamer  was  to  sail  tomor 
row,  and  she  would  go  on  board  that  night.  She 
called  a  carriage  and  was  driven  to  the  wharf. 
Yes,  it  was  all  right,  said  the  steward,  and  she  was 
made  comfortable  for  the  night. 

Among  the  crowd  of  people  that  came  to  see 
the  steamer  sail,  Signe  thought  she  caught  sight  of 


ADDED  UPON  71 

Hr.  Bogstad  elbowing  through  the  throng  to  get  to 
the  ship.  But  he  was  too  late.  The  third  bell  had 
rung,  the  gangplank  was  being  withdrawn,  and  the 
vessel  was  slowly  moving  away.  Signe  had  con 
cealed  herself  among  the  people,  but  now  she  pressed 
to  the  railing  and  waved  her  handkerchief  with  the 
rest. 

Farewell  to  Norway,  farewell  to  home  and  na 
tive  land.  Signe's  heart  was  full.  All  that  day  she 
sat  on  deck.  She  had  no  desire  for  food,  and  the 
crowded  steerage  had  no  attractions.  So  she  sat, 
busy  with  her  thoughts  and  the  sights  about  the 
beautiful  Christiania  fjord. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  steamed  into 
Christiansand,  and  a  few  hours  later,  the  last  of 
Norway's  rocky  coast  sank  below  the  waters  of  the 
North  Sea. 

All  went  well  for  a  week.  Signe  had  not  suf 
fered  much  from  seasickness,  but  now  a  storm  was 
surely  coming.  Sailors  were  busy  making  every 
thing  snug  and  tight;  and  the  night  closed  in  fierce 
and  dark,  with  the  sea  spray  sweeping  the  deck. 

Signe  staggered  down  into  the  dimly  lighted 
steerage.  Most  of  the  poor  emigrants  had  crawled 
into  their  bunks,  and  were  rolling  back  and  forth 
with  each  lurch  of  the  ship.  Signe  sat  and  talked 
with  a  Danish  girl,  each  clinging  to  a  post. 

"I  don't  feel  like  going  to  bed,"  said  the  girl. 

"Nor  I.    What  a  night  it  is!" 

"Do  you  think  we  shall  get  safely  across?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  replied  Signe.  "You  mustn't 
be  frightened  at  a  storm." 


72  ADDED  UPON 

"I  try  not  to  be  afraid,  but  I'm  such  a  coward." 

"Think  about  something  pleasant,  now,"  sug 
gested  the  other.  "Remember  where  you're  going 
and  whom  you  are  going  to  meet." 

The  girl  from  Denmark  had  confided  to  Signe 
that  she  was  going  to  join  her  lover  in  America. 

The  girl  tried  to  smile,  and  Signe  continued: 
"What  a  contrast  between  us.  I  am  running  away; 
you  are  going  to  meet  someone — " 

Crash!  A  blow  struck  the  ship  and  shook  it 
from  end  to  end;  and  presently  the  machinery  came 
to  a  full  stop.  Then  there  was  hurrying  of  feet  on 
deck,  and  they  could  hear  the  boatswain's  shrill 
pipe,  and  the  captain  giving  commands.  The  steer 
age  was  soon  a  scene  of  terror.  Those  who  rushed 
up  the  stairs  were  met  with  fastened  doors,  and 
were  compelled  to  remain  below.  Women  screamed 
and  prayed  and  raved.  Then  the  steward  came  in, 
and  informed  them  that  there  was  no  danger,  and  the 
scene  somewhat  quieted  down.  On  further  inquiry 
it  was  learned  that  they  had  collided  with  another 
ship.  Some  damage  had  been  done  forward,  but 
there  was  no  further  danger.  However,  very  few 
slept  that  night,  and  when  morning  broke,  clear  and 
beautiful,  with  glad  hearts  they  rushed  up  into  the 
open  air. 

The  second  class  was  forward.  Three  of  the 
passengers  had  been  killed  and  quite  a  number  in 
jured. 

If  Signe  had  not  been  so  poor,  and  had  not 
refused  help  from  Hr.  Bogstad,  she  would  have 


ADDED  UPON  73 

taken  second  class  passage.     But  now,  thank  God 
for  being  poor  and — independent! 

In  another  week  they  landed  at  New  York,  and 
each  went  her  own  way.  Signe  Dahl  took  the  first 
train  for  Chicago. 

VII. 

"The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away." — Job  1:22. 

The  news  startled  the  young  city  of  Willowby 
from  the  Honorable  Mayor  to  the  newest  comer  in 
the  place.  The  railroad  company  had  found  a 
shorter  route  to  its  northern  main  line,  and  it  had 
been  decided  to  remove,  or,  at  least,  to  abandon  for 
a  time,  the  road  running  through  the  valley.  The 
short  cut  would  save  fifty  miles  of  roadbed  and  avoid 
some  heavy  grades,  but  it  would  leave  the  town  of 
Willowby  twenty-five  miles  from  the  railroad. 
Everybody  said  it  would  be  a  death-blow  to  the 
place.  Petitions  and  propositions  from  the  citi 
zens  to  the  railroad  company  availed  nothing. 

The  most  diresome  predictions  came  true.  After 
the  change,  the  life  of  the  young  town  seemed  to 
wither  away.  Its  business  almost  ceased.  The 
speculator]|whose  tenementjfhouses  were  without 
roof,  hurriedly  closed  them  in,  and  so  let  them  stand. 
Safer  is  the  farmer,  in  such  times.  His  fields  will 
still  yield  the  same,  let  stocks  and  values  in  real 
estate  rise  and  fall  as  they  will. 

Alderman  Rupert  Ames  had  been  attending  the 
protracted  meetings  of  the  city  council;  this,  with 


74  ADDED  UPON 

other  business,  kept  him  away  from  home  for  a 
week.  This  was  the  explanation  which  he  gave  to 
his  mother  when  he  at  last  came  home. 

"Rupert,"  she  said  to  him,  "you  must  not  worry 
so.  I  see  you  are  sick — you're  as  pale  as  death  now. 
Is  there  anything  the  matter,  my  boy  ?" 

Rupert  seated  himself  on  the  sofa,  resting  his 
face  in  his  hands,  and  looked  into  the  fire.  He  was 
haggard  and  pale. 

"Mother — yes,  mother,  something's  the  matter 
but  I  cannot  tell  you,  I  cannot  tell  you." 

The  mother  sank  beside  him.  "Rupert,  what  is 
it,  are  you  sick?" 

"No,  dear  mother,  I'm  not  sick — only  at  heart." 
He  put  his  arms  around  her  neck  and  resting  his 
head  on  her  shoulder,  began  to  sob. 

It  had  been  a  long  time  since  she  had  seen  her 
boy  shed  tears. 

"Mother,"  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  forced 
himself  to  talk,  "I  must  tell  you.  The  bank  has 
failed  and — and — I  have  not  always  told  you  of  my 
business  transactions,  mother.  I  now  owe  more 
than  we  are  worth  in  this  world.  I  have  been  in 
vesting  in  real  estate.  I  paid  a  big  price  for  the 
Riverside  Addition,  and  the  paper  I  asked  you  to 
sign  was  a  mortgage  on  the  farm  to  secure  a  loan. 
Mother,  I  thought  it  was  a  good  investment,  and  it 
would  have  been  had  the  railroad  remained,  but 
now  property  has  sunk  so  low  that  all  we  own  will 
not  pay  my  debts.  And  the  bank  has  failed  also — 
0  mother!" 

"My  son,  do  not  carry  on  like  that.    If  the 


ADDED  UPON  75 

worst  comes,  we  still  have  the  farm,  haven't  we?" 

"You  do  not  understand,  mother ;  our  creditors 
can  take  that,  too." 

Then  she  also  broke  down,  and  at  sight  of  her 
tears  the  son  gained  control  of  his  own  feelings, 
and  tried  to  comfort  his  mother.  She  should  never 
want  as  long  as  he  had  two  strong  hands  with 
which  work,  he  assured  her.  All  would  be  right  in 
the  end.  "What  I  have  done,  I  can  do  again,  mother ; 
and  though  if  it  comes  to  the  worst,  it  will  be  hard, 
I  am  young  yet,  and  have  life  before  me." 

For  an  hour  they  sat  on  the  sofa  with  their 
arms  around  each  other,  talking  and  planning ;  and 
then  when  they  became  silent,  the  pictures  they 
saw  in  the  glowing  coals  partook  of  a  log  house,  a 
dreary  sagebrush  plain,  and  the  building  of  canals 
and  reservoirs. 

The  worst  did  come.  They  could,  perhaps,  have 
retained  a  part  of  Ames  farm,  but  they  decided  to 
give  up  everything,  pay  their  debts,  and  face  the 
world  honorably.  So,  before  Christmas,  every 
thing  had  been  cleared  up,  and  Widow  Ames  was 
installed  in  a  neat  three-roomed  house  nearer  town, 
for  which  they  paid  a  monthly  rental. 

Miss  Virginia  Wilton  was  on  a  visit  to  her 
"folks  in  the  East."  Rupert  both  longed  and  feared 
for  her  return.  In  his  letters  he  had  said  nothing 
about  the  change  in  his  affairs.  He  would  wait  until 
her  return,  and  then  he  would  explain  it  fully  to 
her.  He  had  decided,  for  her  sake,  to  propose  to  her 
the  postponement  of  their  marriage  until  spring. 
He  would  certainly  be  better  prepared  then.  It 


76  ADDED  UPON 

would  be  a  sacrifice  on  his  part,  but  Virginia  would 
be  wise  enough  to  see  its  advisability.  Yes,  they 
would  counsel  together,  and  Virginia's  love  would 
be  the  power  to  hold  him  up.  After  all,  the  world 
was  not  so  dark  with  such  a  girl  as  Virginia  Wilton 
waiting  to  become  his  wife. 

The  day  after  her  return  to  Willowby,  Rupert 
called  on  her.  Mrs.  Worth,  the  landlady,  responded 
to  his  knock,  and  said  that  Virginia  had  gone  out 
for  the  day.  She  was,  however,  to  give  him  this 
note  if  he  called. 

Rupert  took  the  paper  and  turned  away.  He 
would  find  her  at  some  neighbor's.  He  carefully 
broke  the  envelope  and  read : 

Dear  Mr.  Ames: 

As  I  have  accepted  a  position  to  teach  in  an 
other  state,  I  shall  have  to  leave  Willowby  tomor 
row.  I  shall  be  too  busy  to  see  you,  and  you  have 
too  much  good  sense  to  follow  me.  Forget  the  past. 
With  kindest  regards,  I  am,  Virginia  Wilton. 


Nina  was  married  on  the  first  of  the  year. 
Widow  Ames  died  about  two  weeks  after. 

And  so  life's  shifting  scenes  came  fast  to  Ru 
pert  Ames;  and  they  were  mostly  scenes  of  dreari 
ness  and  trial;  but  he  did  not  altogether  give  up. 
Many  of  his  friends  were  his  friends  still,  and  he 
could  have  drowned  his  sorrow  in  the  social  whirl; 
but  he  preferred  to  sit  at  home  during  the  long 
winter  evenings,  beside  his  fire  and  shaded  lamp, 


ADDED  UPON  77 

and  forget  himself  in  his  books.  He  seemed  to  be 
drifting  away  from  his  former  life,  into  a  strange 
world  of  his  own.  He  lost  all  interest  in  his  sur 
roundings.  To  him,  the  world  was  getting  empty 
and  barren  and  cold. 

The  former  beautiful  valley  was  a  prison.  The 
hills  in  which  his  boyhood  had  been  spent  lost  all 
their  loveliness.  How  foolish,  anyway,  he  began 
to  think,  to  always  live  in  a  narrow  valley,  and 
never  know  anything  of  the  broad  world  without. 
Surely  the  soul  will  grow  small  in  such  conditions. 

Early  that  spring,  Rupert  packed  his  posses 
sions  in  a  bundle  which  he  tied  behind  the  saddle 
on  his  horse  and  bade  good-bye  to  his  friends. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Rupe?"  they  asked. 

But  his  answer  was  always,  "I  don't  know." 

VIII. 

"No  chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but 
grievous:  nevertheless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable 
fruit  of  righteousness  unto  them  that  are  exercised  thereby." 
—  Heb.  12:11. 

Rupert  Ames  had  ridden  all  day,  resting  only 
at  noon  to  permit  his  horse  to  graze.  As  for  him 
self,  he  was  not  tired.  The  long  pent-up  energy 
had  begun  to  escape,  and  it  seemed  that  he  could 
have  ridden,  or  walked,  or  in  any  way  worked  hard 
for  a  long  time  without  need  of  rest.  Move,  move 
he  must.  He  had  been  dormant  long  enough;  think 
ing,  thinking,  nothing  but  that  for  months.  It 


78  ADDED  UPON 

would  have  driven  him  mad  had  he  not  made  a 
change.  Where  was  he  going?  No  one  knew;  Ru 
pert  himself  did  not  know;  anywhere  for  a  change; 
anywhere  to  get  away,  for  a  time,  from  the  scenes 
and  remembrances  of  the  valley  and  town  of  Wil- 
lowby. 

At  dark  he  rode  into  a  village  at  the  mouth  of 
a  gorge.  Lights  gleamed  from  the  windows.  A 
strong  breeze  came  from  the  gorge,  and  the  trees 
which  lined  the  one  stony  street  all  leaned  away  from 
the  mountain.  Rupert  had  never  been  in  the  place 
before,  but  he  had  heard  of  Windtown.  Was 
there  a  hotel?  he  asked  a  passer-by.  No;  but  they 
took  lodgers  at  Smith's,  up  the  hill.  At  Smith's  he, 
therefore,  put  up  his  horse  and  secured  supper  and 
bed.  Until  late  at  night  he  walked  up  and  down 
Windtown's  one  street,  and  even  climbed  the  cliffs 
above  the  town. 

Next  morning  he  was  out  early,  and  entered 
the  canyon  as  the  sun  began  to  illumine  its  rocky 
domes  and  cast  long  shafts  of  light  across  the  chasm. 
A  summer  morning  ride  through  a  canyon  of  the 
Rockies  is  always  an  inspiration,  but  Rupert  was 
not  conscious  of  it.  Again,  at  noon,  he  fed  his  horse 
a  bag  of  grain,  and  let  him  crop  the  scanty  bunch- 
grass  on  the  narrow  hillside.  A  slice  of  bread 
from  his  pocket,  dipped  into  the  clear  stream, 
was  his  own  meal.  Then,  out  of  the  canyon,  and 
up  the  mountain,  and  over  the  divide  he  went.  All 
that  afternoon  he  rode  over  a  stretch  of  sagebrush 
plain.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  stopped  at 
a  mining  camp.  In  the  morning  he  sold  his  horse 


ADDED  UPON  79 

for  three  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces,  and  with  his 
bundle  on  his  back,  walked  to  the  railroad  station, 
a  distance  of  seven  miles. 

"I  want  a  ticket,"  said  he  to  the  man  at  the 
little  glass  window. 

"Where  to?" 

"To— to— well,  to  Chicago." 

The  man  looked  suspiciously  at  Rupert,  and 
then  turned  to  a  card  hanging  on  the  wall. 

"Twenty-eight-fifty,"  he  said. 

Two  of  the  gold  pieces  were  shoved  under  the 
glass,  and  Rupert  received  his  ticket  and  his  change. 

In  the  car,  he  secured  a  seat  near  the  window 
that  he  might  see  the  country.  It  was  the  same 
familiar  mountains  and  streams  all  that  day,  but 
the  next  morning  when  he  awoke  and  looked  out 
of  the  car  windows,  a  strange  sight  met  his  gaze. 
In  every  direction,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  stretched 
the  level  prairie,  over  which  the  train  sped  in 
straight  lines  for  miles  and  miles.  "We  must  be 
in  Kansas,"  he  thought.  "What  a  sight,  to  see  so 
much  level  land." 

But  what  was  he  going  to  do  in  Chicago?  To 
see  the  world,  to  mingle  in  the  crowd,  to  jostle  with 
his  fellow-beings — what  else,  he  did  not  know. 

Chicago!  What  a  sight  to  the  man  of  the  moun 
tains!  Streets,  houses,  people  and  the  continuous 
din  and  traffic  of  the  city  nearly  turned  his  head 
for  a  time.  What  an  ideal  place  in  which  to  lose 
one's  self.  Rupert  had  a  bundle  no  longer,  but  in 
his  pocket  just  fifteen  dollars  and  ten  cents.  He 
kept  well  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  sharpers  in  the 


80  ADDED  UPON 

city,  and  lived  quite  comfortably  for  a  week,  seeing 
the  sights  of  the  wonderful  city.  Then,  when  his 
money  was  getting  low,  he  tried  to  get  work,  as  he 
wished  to  remain  longer.  But  Rupert  was  a  farmer, 
and  they  were  not  in  demand  within  the  city  limits. 
Outside  the  city,  Rupert  fell  in  with  a  body  of  trav 
elers  who  were  going  West — walking,  and  riding  on 
the  trains  when  they  had  a  chance.  He  joined 
them.  Somehow,  he  had  ceased  to  consider  what  his 
doings  might  lead  to,  and  as  for  misgivings  as  to 
the  company  he  was  keeping,  that  did  not  trouble 
him.  For  many  days  there  was  more  walking  than 
riding.  Rupert  was  not  expert  at  swinging  himself 
under  the  cars  and  hanging  to  the  brakebeams,  so 
he  traveled  with  the  more  easy-going  element,  who 
slept  in  the  haylofts  at  night  and  got  what  food 
they  could  from  farmhouses,  though  Rupert  hoarded 
his  little  store  of  money  and  usually  paid  for  what 
he  got.  Then  he  lost  all  track  of  time.  It  must  have 
been  far  into  the  summer  when  Rupert  separated 
from  his  companions,  and  found  himself  at  the  base 
of  the  mountains.  Here  he  spent  his  last  cent 
for  a  loaf  of  bread. 

That  night  Rupert  felt  a  fever  burning  within 
him,  and  in  the  morning  he  was  too  weak  to  travel. 
He,  therefore,  lay  in  the  hay  which  had  served  him 
for  a  bed  until  the  sun  shone  in  upon  him;  then  he 
again  tried  to  get  out,  but  he  trembled  so  that  he 
crawled  back  into  the  loft  and  there  lay  the  whole 
day.  Towards  evening  he  was  driven  out  by  the 
owner  of  the  barn.  Rupert  staggered  along  until 
he  came  to  another  hayloft,  which  he  succeeded  in 


ADDED  UPON  81 

reaching  without  being  seen.  All  that  night  he 
tossed  in  fever  and  suffered  from  the  pains  which 
racked  his  body.  The  next  day  a  farmer  found  him, 
and  seeing  his  condition,  brought  him  some  food. 
Then  on  he  went  again.  His  mind  was  now  in  a 
daze.  Sometimes  the  mountains,  the  houses,  and 
the  fences  became  so  jumbled  together  that  he  could 
not  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  Was  he  losing 
his  mind?  Or  was  it  but  the  fever?  Was  the  end 
coming? — and  far  from  home,  too — Home? — he  had 
no  home.  One  place  was  as  good  as  another  to  him. 
He  had  no  distinct  recollection  how  he  got  to  the 
usual  hayloft,  nor  how  long  he  lay  there.  It  was 
one  confused  mass  of  pains  and  dreams  and  fan 
tastic  shapes.  Then  the  fever  must  have  burned 
out,  for  he  awoke  one  night  with  a  clear  brain. 
Then  he  slept  again. 

On  awakening  next  morning  and  crawling  out, 
he  saw  the  sun  shining  on  the  snow-tipped  peaks 
of  the  mountains.  He  had  dreamed  during  the  night 
of  his  mother  and  Virginia  and  Nina,  and  the  dream 
had  impressed  him  deeply.  His  haggard  face  was 
covered  with  a  short  beard;  his  clothes  were  dirty, 
and  some  rents  were  getting  large.  Yes,  he  had 
reached  the  bottom.  He  could  go  no  further.  He 
was  a  tramp — a  dirty  tramp.  He  had  got  to  the 
end  of  his  rope.  He  would  reach  the  mountains 
which  he  still  loved,  and  there  on  some  cliff  he  would 
lie  down  and  die.  He  would  do  it — would  do  it! 

All  that  day  he  walked.  He  asked  not  for  food. 
He  wanted  nothing  from  any  man.  Alone  he  had 
come  into  the  world,  alone  he  would  leave  it.  His 


82  ADDED  UPON 

face  was  set  and  hard.  Up  the  mountain  road  he 
went,  past  farmhouse  and  village,  up,  farther  up, 
until  he  reached  a  valley  that  looked  like  one  he 
knew,  but  there  was  no  town  there,  nothing  but  a 
level  stretch  of  bench-land  and  a  stream  coursing 
down  the  lower  part  of  the  valley.  Groves  of  pines 
extended  over  the  foothills  up  towards  the  peaks. 
Up  there  he  would  go.  Under  the  pines  his  bones 
would  lie  and  bleach. 

He  left  the  wagon  road,  and  followed  a  trail 
up  the  side  of  the  hill.  The  sun  was  nearing  the 
white  mountain  peaks.  An  autumn  haze  hung  over 
the  valley  and  made  the  distance  dim  and  blue.  The 
odor  from  the  trees  greeted  him,  and  recalled  mem 
ories  of  the  time  when,  full  of  life  and  hope,  he  had 
roamed  his  native  pine-clad  hills.  He  was  nearing 
home,  anyway.  The  preacher  had  said  that  dying 
was  only  going  home.  If  there  was  a  hereafter,  it 
could  be  no  worse  than  the  present;  and  if  death 
ended  all,  well,  his  bones  would  rest  in  peace  in  this 
lone  place.  The  wolf  and  the  coyote  might  devour 
his  flesh — let  them — and  their  night  howl  would  be 
his  funeral  dirge. 

Far  up,  he  went  into  the  deepest  of  the  forest. 
The  noise  of  falling  waters  came  to  him  as  a  distant 
hymn.  He  sat  on  the  ground  to  rest,  before  he  made 
his  last  climb.  Mechanically,  he  took  from  his 
pocket  a  small  book,  his  testament — his  sole  remain 
ing  bit  of  property.  He  opened  it,  and  his  eyes  fell 
on  some  lines  which  he  had  penciled  on  the  margin, 
seemingly,  years  and  years  ago.  They  ran  as  follows : 


ADDED  UPON  83 

"  "Tig  sorrow  builds  the  shining  ladder  up, 
Whose  golden  rounds  are  our  calamities." 

And  the  passages  to  which  they  pointed  read: 

"My  son,  despise  not  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint 
when  thou  art  rebuked  of  him;  for  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receive th.  If  ye 
receive  chastenings,  God  dealeth  with  you  as  with  sons,  for  what 
son  is  he  whom  the  father  chasteneth  not?" 

The  book  dropped  from  the  reader's  trembling 
grasp.  It  was  then  that  the  Angel  of  Mercy  said, 
"It  is  enough/'  and  touched  the  young  man's  heart. 
The  long  pent-up  spring  burst  forth,  and  Rupert 
sobbed  like  a  child.  By  a  huge  gray  rock  sheltered 
by  the  pines,  he  uttered  his  first  prayer  to  God. 
For  a  full  hour  he  prayed  and  wept,  until  a  peaceful 
spirit  overpowered  him,  and  he  slept. 

Rupert  awoke  with  a  changed  heart,  though  he 
was  weak  and  faint.  Evening  was  coming  on  and 
he  saw  the  smoke  curling  from  the  chimney  of  a 
farmhouse  half  a  mile  below.  Painfully,  he  made 
his  way  down  to  it. 

A  young  man  was  feeding  the  cows  for  the 
night,  and  Rupert  went  up  to  him,  and  said: 

"Good  evening,  sir;  have  you  any  objection  to 
my  sleeping  in  your  barn  tonight?" 

The  man  eyed  him  closely.  Tramps  did  not 
often  come  to  his  out-of-the-way  place. 

"Do  you  smoke?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  I  have  no  objection,  though  I  don't  like 
tramps  around  the  place." 


84  ADDED  UPON 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

The  man  moved  off,  but  turned  again.  "Have 
you  had  any  supper?"  he  asked. 

"No;  but  I  do  not  care  for  anything  to  eat, 
thank  you". 

"Strange  tramp,  that,"  said  the  man  to  himself, 
"not  to  want  anything  to  eat.  Well,  go  into  the 
shanty  and  warm  yourself,  anyway." 

In  the  shanty,  Rupert  found  an  old  stove  glow 
ing  with  a  hot  fire,  by  the  side  of  which  he  seated 
himself.  The  night  was  chilly  in  that  high  altitude, 
and  Rupert  spread  out  his  palms  to  the  warmth. 
Inside  the  house,  he  heard  the  rattle  of  dishes  and 
the  voices  of  women.  Then  strains  of  songs  floated 
out  to  him,  and  he  became  an  intent  listener.  Soon 
from  out  the  humming  came  two  sweet  voices,  sing 
ing.  Rupert  sat  as  one  spellbound,  as  the  song 
seemed  to  melt  into  his  soul : 

"O  my  Father,  thou  that  dwellest 

In  the  high  and  glorious  place! 
When  shall  I  regain  thy  presence, 

And  again  behold  thy  face? 
In  thy  holy  habitation, 

Did  my  spirit  once  reside; 
In  my  first  primeval  childhood, 

Was  I  nurtured  near  thy  side. 

"For  a  wise  and  glorious  purpose 

Thou  hast  placed  me  here  on  earth, 
And  withheld  the  recollection 

Of  my  former  friends  and  birth; 
Yet  ofttimes  a  secret  something 

Whispered,  You're  a  stranger  here; 
And  I  felt  that  I  had  wandered 

From  a  more  exalted  sphere. 


ADDED  UPON  85 

"I  had  learned  to  call  thee  Father, 

Through  thy  Spirit  from  on  high; 
But  until  the  Key  of  Knowledge 

Was  restored,  I  knew  not  why. 
In  the  heavens  are  parents  single? 

No;  the  thought  makes  reason  stare. 
Truth  is  reason;  truth  eternal 

Tells  me  I've  a  mother  there. 

"When  I  leave  this  frail  existence, 

When  I  lay  this  mortal  by, 
Father,  mother,  may  I  meet  you 

In  your  royal  courts  on  high? 
Then,  at  length,  when  I've  completed 

All  you  sent  me  forth  to  do, 
With  your  mutual  approbation 

Let  me  come  and  dwell  with  you." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  young  woman  came  out 
with  a  small  tin  pail  in  her  hand.  At  sight  of  Rupert 
she  gave  a  startled  cry  and  backed  to  the  door. 
Just  then  the  young  farmer  passed  through  the 
shanty  and  explained  that  it  was  only  a  "traveler" 
warming  himself.  The  young  woman  looked  steadily 
at  Rupert.  The  fire  shone  out  from  the  open  door 
of  the  stove,  and  the  light  danced  on  the  rough 
board  walls,  throwing  a  halo  of  red  around  the  girl. 
"What  a  sweet  picture,"  instantly  thought 
Rupert. 

Then  she  slowly  advanced  again,  and,  instead 
of  pouring  the  contents  of  the  pail  into  a  larger 
dish  as  was  her  errand,  she  placed  it  on  the  table 
by  Rupert,  and  said,  smilingly: 

"Vil  you  have  a  drink  of  varm  milk?" 

"Thank  you,  thank  you." 

Then  she  went  back. 


86  ADDED  UPON 

Warm  milk!  What  could  be  more  delicious? 
Rupert  sipped  the  sweet  fluid.  How  it  invigorated 
him  and  surcharged  him  with  new  life.  And  given 
by  such  hands,  with  such  a  smile!  It  was  a  glimpse 
of  past  glories. 

In  the  morning  Rupert  was  asked  if  he  wanted 
a  job. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer. 

"Can  you  work  on  a  farm?" 

"I've  been  a  farmer  all  my  life,"  was  the  reply. 
"I'm  not  a  tramp,  as  you  understand  that  term." 

"Well,  stay  around  today  and  I'll  see  what  I 
can  do.  I  want  some  help,  but  I  cannot  pay  high 
wages." 

"Never  mind  the  wages,"  said  Rupert,  "we'll 
agree  on  that  after  a  while." 

The  young  farmer  saw  that  he  had  no  common 
tramp  to  deal  with,  although  he  looked  rough  and 
travel-stained. 

"I  have  been  sick  for  the  past  few  days,"  ex 
plained  Rupert,  "and  if  you  can  trust  me,  I  should 
like  to  rest  up  a  bit  before  I  go  to  work.  I'm  too 
weak  to  do  you  much  good  yet." 

"That'll  be  all  right,"  was  the  answer.  "I  see 
you  need  something  to  eat  this  morning,  even  if  you 
weren't  hungry  last  night.  Come  with  me  to  the 
house." 

So  Rupert  Ames  remained  with  the  farmer  and 
did  the  chores  around  the  house  until  he  became 
stronger,  when  he  helped  with  the  harder  work. 
He  was  treated  kindly  by  them  all,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  mingled  freely  with  the  family. 


ADDED  UPON  87 

During  this  time  Rupert  realized  that  his  right 
senses,  as  he  called  them,  were  coming  back  to  him, 
and  every  night  he  thanked  God  in  vocal  prayer  for 
his  deliverance  from  a  dark  pit  which  seemed  to 
have  yawned  before  him. 

The  Jansons  were  newcomers  in  the  West,  and 
had  much  to  learn  about  farming.  Mr.  Janson  was 
a  Swede  who  had  been  in  the  country  twenty  years. 
His  wife  and  her  cousin  were  from  Norway,  the 
former  having  been  in  the  country  long  enough  to 
become  Americanized;  it  was  two  years  only  since 
the  latter  had  emigrated  from  her  native  land,  so 
she  spoke  English  with  a  foreign  accent.  Her  name 
was  Signe  Dahl  (first  name  pronounced  in  two  syl 
lables,  Sig-ne).  She  attracted  Rupert's  attention 
from  the  first.  She  had  a  complexion  of  pink  and 
white,  blue  eyes,  soft,  light  hair;  but  it  was  not  her 
peculiar  beauty  alone  that  attracted  him.  There  was 
something  else  about  her,  an  atmosphere  of  peace 
and  assurance  which  Rupert  could  feel  in  her  pres 
ence.  Naturally,  she  was  reticent  at  first,  but  on 
learning  to  know  Rupert,  which  she  seemed  to  do 
intuitively,  she  talked  freely  with  him,  and  even 
seemed  pleased  with  his  company. 

Two  weeks  went  by,  and  Rupert  proffered  to 
remain  with  Mr.  Janson  and  help  him  with  his  har 
vesting.  The  latter  gladly  accepted  the  offer,  for  he 
had  by  this  time  learned  that  Rupert  Ames  could 
give  him  many  practical  lessons  in  farming. 

The  song  that  Rupert  heard  that  first  evening 
continually  rang  in  his  ears.  He  remembered  some 
of  the  words,  and,  as  he  thought  of  them,  strange 


88  ADDED    UPON 

ideas  came  to  him.  One  evening  they  were  all  sit 
ting  around  the  fire  in  the  living  room.  Rupert  had 
been  telling  them  some  of  his  history,  and  when  the 
conversation  lagged,  he  asked  the  two  cousins  to 
sing  that  song  about  "0  my  Father."  They  readily 
consented. 

"A  most  beautiful  song,"  said  Rupert  at  its 
close;  "and  so  strange.  It  seems  to  bring  me  back 
for  an  instant  to  some  former  existence,  if  that  were 
possible.  What  does  it  mean: 

'In  thy  holy  habitation, 

Did  my  spirit  once  reside; 
In  my  first  primeval  childhood 

Was  I  nurtured  near  thy  side.' 

"What  does  it  mean?" 

"Signe,  you  explain  it,"  said  Mr.  Janson.  "You 
know,  you're  a  better  preacher  than  I  am." 

Signe  made  no  excuses,  but  went  to  the  little 
bookshelf  and  took  from  it  two  books,  her  English 
and  her  Norwegian  Bibles.  She  read  for  the  most 
part  from  the  English  now,  but  she  always  had  the 
more  familiar  one  at  hand  to  explain  any  doubtful 
passage. 

"I  vill  do  wat  I  can,  Mr.  Ames.  I  cannot  read 
English  good,  so  you  must  do  de  reading."  She 
opened  the  book  and  pointed  to  the  fourth  verse  of 
the  thirty-eighth  chapter  of  the  book  of  Job.  Rupert 
read: 

"Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth? 
declare,  if  thou  hast  understanding.  *  *  *  When  the 
morning  stars  sang  together  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy?" 


ADDED  UPON  89 

"Yes,"  said  the  reader,  "that  is  a  great  ques 
tion,  indeed.  Where  was  Job?  Why,  he  was  not  yet 
born." 

"Who  are  de  sons  of  God?"  asked  Signe. 

"I  suppose  we — all  of  us,  in  a  sense." 

"Of  course;  and  ve  all  shouted  for  joy  when 
God  He  laid  de  foundation  of  de  earth;  so,  ve  must 
have  been  der,  and  known  someting  about  it." 

"Yes,  but  how  could  we?  We  were  not  yet 
born." 

"No;  not  in  dis  world;  but  ve  lived  as  spiritual 
children  of  our  Fader  in  heaven." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  remarked  Rupert, 
doubtfully. 

"Of  course  you  don't.     Dat's  why  I  tell  you." 

They  all  smiled  at  that.  Signe  again  turned 
the  leaves  of  her  Bible.  "Read  here,"  said  she. 

This  time  it  was  the  first  chapter  of  St.  John 
He  read  the  first  fourteen  verses. 

"Dat  vil  do;  now  read  here."  She  returned  to 
the  sixth  chapter,  sixty-second  verse,  and  he  read: 

"What  and  if  ye  see  the  Son  of  man  ascend  up  to  where 
He  was  before." 

She  turned  to  another.  It  was  the  twenty- 
eighth  verse  of  chapter  sixteen: 

"I  came  forth  from  the  Father,  and  am  come  into  the 
world:  again,  I  leave  the  world  and  go  to  the  Father." 

Still  she  made  him  read  one  more,  the  fifth 
verse  of  the  seventeenth  chapter: 

"And  now,  O  Father,  glorify  thou  me  with  thine  own  self 
with  the  glory  which  I  had  with  thee  before  the  world  was." 


90  ADDED  UPON 

"Now,  vat  does  it  all  mean,  Mr.  Ames?" 

"I  see  your  point,  Miss  Dahl.  Christ  certainly 
existed  as  an  intelligent  being  before  He  came  to 
this  earth — yes,  even  before  the  world  was." 

"Certainly;  our  Savior  vas  himself  as  ve.  He 
vas  born,  He  had  a  body  as  ve,  and  He  also  had  a 
spirit.  God  is  de  Fader  of  His  spirit  and  it  existed 
long  ago,  as  you  said.  Christ  is  our  Elder  Broder. 
Ve  are  of  de  same  family.  If  He  existed  before  de 
vorld,  why  not  ve?  Dat's  right,  isn't  it?" 

"But  couldn't  Christ  have  been  the  only  one 
who  had  a  pre-existence?  I  believe  something  is 
said  in  your  book  about  the  Savior  being  the  only 
begotten  of  the  Father." 

"Yes,  in  de  flesh;  dat  is  true,  but  God  is  de 
Fader  of  all  spirits  who  have  come  to  dis  world  to 
take  a  body.  I  can  find  you  many  passages  to  prove 
it." 

"Well,  I  have  never  thought  of  these  things  be 
fore,  but  it  must  be  true  if  the  Bible  means  what  it 
says.  That's  a  grand  principle,  Mr.  Janson." 

"It  certainly  is,  Mr.  Ames.  Many  people  object 
to  it;  but  I  cannot  see,  if  we  are  to  exist  in  a  spiritual 
state  after  we  leave  this  body,  why  we  could  not  have 
existed  before  we  entered  it — but  Signe,  here,  is  the 
preacher.  Her  only  trouble  is  with  the  w's  and  th's 
She  can't  get  them  right  yet." 

Signe  smiled.  "No,  Mr.  Ames,  I'm  no  preacher. 
It's  all  so  plain  to  me.  De  Bible  says  ve  have  a  Fader 
in  heaven,  and  I  believe  it.  I  also  believe  ve  have  'a 
moder  der,'  as  de  song  says.  I  can't  prove  it  from  de 
book,  but  I  just  use  my  reason  on  dat." 


ADDED  UPON  91 

It  was  a  new  experience  for  Rupert  to  hear  a 
fair  lady  expound  such  doctrine.  The  whole  thing 
charmed  him,  both  the  speaker  and  that  which  was 
spoken.  A  new  light  seemed  to  dawn  upon  him. 
What  if  this  life  was  but  a  school,  anyway,  into 
which  eternal  souls  were  being  sent  to  be  proved,  to 
be  taught. 

"Have  you  any  other  quotations  on  the  sub 
ject?" 

"Oh,  yes;  it  is  full,"  said  she.  "When  you  get 
time  read  Heb.  12:9.  Jer.  1:4-5.  Eph.  1:3-5  and 
John  9:1-3.  I  do  not  remember  more  now." 

Rupert  took  them  down,  and  read  them  that 
night  before  he  went  to  bed.  And  each  day  he 
saw  a  new  horizon;  and  the  sweet-faced  Norwegian 
was  not  the  least  factor  in  this  continued  change  of 
mental  vision.  "God  bless  her,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"God  has  sent  her  to  me  for  a  purpose;"  and  he  began 
to  add  to  his  prayers  that  he  might  so  live  that  he 
would  be  worthy  of  the  blessings  which,  seemingly, 
were  coming  his  way. 


IX. 

"Even  so  faith,  if  it  hath  not  works,  is  dead,  being  alone  " 
— James  2:17. 

Chamogo  Valley  lies  on  the  edge  of  the  great 
arid  region  of  America.  At  the  time  of  Rupert 
Ames'  arrival  in  the  valley,  full  crops  were  never 
certain,  and  during  some  years,  rain  was  so  scarce 


92  ADDED  UPON 

that  there  were  no  crops  at  all.  The  Chicago  real 
estate  dealer  who  had  sold  Mr.  Janson  his  land  had 
not  enlightened  him  on  this  fact,  and  so  he  had  al 
ready  lost  the  best  part  of  two  years'  work  by  failure 
of  crops.  Rupert  Ames  learned  of  all  this  from  Mr. 
Janson,  and  then  he  wondered  why  advantage  was 
not  taken  of  the  stream  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley 
for  irrigation  purposes. 

One  day — it  was  near  the  end  of  the  harvest, 
and  they  were  pitting  their  last  potatoes — Rupert 
asked  Mr.  Janson  if  the  adjoining  lands  could  be 
bought. 

"Why,  yes,"  was  the  reply.  "I  was  offered 
nearly  the  whole  valley  for  a  small  sum,  but  I  have 
all  the  land  I  care  to  handle.  You  see,  this  region 
would  be  different  if  we  could  rely  on  the  moisture, 
but  we  can't,  and  I  am  nearly  tired  of  it  myself.  Do 
you  want  to  buy  me  out?"  This  with  a  laugh. 

"Can  you  raise  money  enough  to  buy  this  whole 
valley?"  asked  Rupert  seriously. 

"Yes;  I  could  get  it." 

"Then  I  am  going  to  propose  something  to  you." 

Whereupon  Rupert  pointed  out  that  the  rich 
bench  lands  on  each  side  of  the  river  could  be  brought 
under  cultivation,  and  crops  secured  every  year  by 
bringing  the  water  from  the  stream  in  canals,  and 
watering,  or  irrigating  them.  Mr.  Janson  listened 
with  wonder  at  Rupert's  description  of  Dry-bench 
reservoir,  and  how  simple  it  would  be  to  construct 
canals  by  which  to  water  Chamogo  valley. 

"This  valley  can  be  made  to  support  a  good- 
sized  population,"  said  Rupert.  "By  securing  the 


ADDED  UPON  93 

land  and  digging  canals  to  it,  and  then  selling  it  out 
in  farms  again — well,  if  you  don't  make  a  hundred 
per  cent  on  your  investment,  I  am  mistaken." 

They  had  many  talks  on  the  scheme,  and  at  last 
it  was  decided  to  try  it.  Rupert  would  supervise  the 
construction  of  the  canals.  He  would  remain  during 
the  winter,  do  what  work  could  be  done  before  the 
snow  came,  and  then  continue  the  work  in  the  spring. 

The  land  was  secured  at  a  small  outlay.  The 
canal  was  surveyed  and  a  little  digging  was  done  that 
fall.  When  the  snow  came,  Rupert  rode  twenty- 
one  miles  to  the  county  seat,  took  the  teachers' exam 
ination,  received  a  certificate,  and  obtained  the  Cha- 
mogo  district  school  for  the  winter.  It  was  a  new 
experience  for  him,  and  a  trying  one  at  first.  The  big 
boys  came  to  school  to  get  out  of  the  storm,  and  in 
cidentally,  to  learn  something  of  the  three  R's.  They 
were  often  wild,  but  Rupert  managed  them  without 
doing  any  "licking,"  the  usual  mode  of  discipline. 
He  now  wrote  to  his  sister  Nina,  and  told  her  that 
he  was  located  for  the  winter;  that  he  expected  to 
get  back  to  Willowby,  but  not  for  a  time. 

So  the  winter  months  passed.  Rupert  studied 
his  own  lessons  when  he  was  not  preparing  for  his 
day's  work.  He  made  frequent  visits  to  the  Jansons, 
though  it  was  a  good  three  miles'  drive.  He  was  al 
ways  received  as  a  friend,  and,  indeed,  was  treated 
as  one  of  the  family. 

Was  it  strange  that  a  tie  should  grow  between 
Rupert  Ames  and  Signe  Dahl?  Was  it  anything  out 
of  the  way  that  Rupert's  trips  became  more  frequent, 


94  ADDED  UPON 

and  that  the  fair-haired  Norwegian  looked  longingly 
down  the  road  for  the  school-master's  horse? 

Rupert  did  not  try  to  deceive  himself.  It  had 
been  a  year  only  since  his  experience  with  Virginia 
Wilton.  He  had  thought  that  he  never  would  get 
over  that,  but  even  now  he  could  look  back  on  it  with 
indifference,  yes,  even  with  thankfulness.  This  love 
which  seemed  to  be  coming  to  him  was  different  from 
that  first  experience.  He  could  not  explain  this  dif 
ference,  but  he  knew  that  it  existed.  Rupert  had  no 
misgivings.  Signe  did  not  thrill  him,  did  not  hold 
him  spell-bound  with  her  presence.  No;  it  was  only 
a  calm,  sweet  assurance  that  she  was  a  good  girl,  that 
he  loved  her,  and  that  she  thought  well  of  him.  Their 
conversations  were  mostly  on  serious,  but  deeply  in 
teresting  subjects.  Signe,  in  common  with  her  cou 
sin  and  Mr.  Janson,  had  religious  views  of  her  own, 
which  were  peculiar,  at  least  to  Rupert.  Nothing 
more  than  the  common  doctrines  of  the  Christian 
denominations  had  Rupert  ever  heard.  Signe  knew 
her  Bible  well,  and  she  could  find  wonderful  things 
within  its  lids,  teachings  which  were  new  to  Rupert, 
but  which  opened  to  him  a  future,  a  bright,  glorious 
future,  full  of  possibilities.  Besides,  they  explained 
to  him  many  of  the  mysteries  of  life  and  answered 
many  of  its  hard  questions. 

Thus  one  evening — it  was  Friday,  and  he  lin 
gered  longer  on  that  evening — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Janson 
were  visiting  neighbors,  and  Rupert  and  Signe  were 
alone.  They  sat  by  the  kitchen  stove,  and  the  blaz 
ing  pine  wood  made  a  lamp  unnecessary.  Signe  had 
received  a  letter  from  home  which  she  had  translated 


ADDED  UPON  95 

to  Rupert.  Her  father  had  long  since  forgiven  her. 
The  few  dollars  she  sent  home  now  and  then  multi 
plied  to  quite  a  few  kroner  by  the  time  they  reached 
Norway,  and  they  helped  the  struggling  family. 
After  old  country  topics  had  been  exhausted,  the  con 
versation  had  drifted  to  religious  themes,  and  es 
pecially  to  the  doctrine  expressed  in  the  song  "O  my 
Father;"  but  they  now  sat  silently  looking  into  the 
fire.  Their  chairs  were  not  far  apart,  and  it  was  an 
easy  matter  for  Rupert  to  lay  his  hand  over  Signe's 
fingers  that  rested  on  the  arm  of  her  chair  and  draw 
them  closely  into  his  big  palm. 

"Signe,"  he  said,  "if  we  ever  lived  as  intelligent 
beings  in  a  pre-existent  state — and  I  now  can  not 
doubt  it, — we  two  knew  each  other  there.  Perhaps 
we  were  the  closest  friends,  and  I  have  just  been  let 
ting  my  imagination  run  wild  in  contemplating  the 
possibilities." 

"Let  me  tell  you  someting — thing.  Did  I  get 
tha-at  right?" 

"You  get  the  th  as  well  as  I,  and  the  w's  trouble 
you  no  more." 

"Only  sometimes  I  forget.  I  was  going  to  say, 
you  remember  the  first  night  you  came  here?" 

"I  certainly  do;"  and  he  pressed  her  fingers  a 
little  closer. 

"Well,  I  seemed  to  know  you  from  the  first. 
Though  you  looked  bad  and  like  a  tramp,  I  knew  you 
were  not,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  had  known  you  before." 

They  were  silent  again,  "reading  life's  meaning 
in  each  other's  eyes." 

Signe  filled  the  stove  from  the  box  beside  it. 


96  ADDED  UPON 

"You  remember  that  book  you  gave  me  to  read 
the  other  day,  Signe?" 

"Yes;  what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"I  have  been  thinking  considerably  about  it.  It 
sets  forth  gospel  doctrine  altogether  different  from 
what  I  have  ever  heard;  still  it  agrees  perfectly  with 
what  Christ  and  His  disciples  taught.  You  know,  I 
have  always  been  taught  that  man  is  a  kind  of  pass 
ive  being,  as  regards  the  salvation  of  his  soul;  that 
everything  has  been  done  for  him;  that,  in  fact,  it 
would  be  the  basest  presumption  on  his  part  to  at 
tempt  to  do  anything  for  himself;  that  man  is  with 
out  free  agency  in  the  matter;  that  he  is  simply  as  a 
lump  of  clay,  and  with  little  more  intelligence  or  act 
ive  powers." 

"I  know  all  about  such  teachings,"  said  Signe,  as 
she  went  for  her  Bible.  They  were  drilled  into  me  in 
the  old  country." 

"Now,"  continued  he,  "I  see  that  such  doctrines 
lower  man,  who  is,  in  fact,  a  child  of  God.  I  cannot 
perceive  that  an  Allwise  Parent  would  thus  take 
away  the  agency  of  His  children.  We  have  a  motto 
in  school  which  says:  'Self  effort  educates/  and  I  be 
lieve  that  to  be  the  only  principle  upon  which  we  can 
safely  grow,  if  we  are  to  become  like  unto  our  Eter 
nal  Father." 

"Yes,"  answered  Signe,  "but  you  must  remem 
ber  one  thing,  that  'as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in 
Christ  shall  all  be  made  alive.'  The  resurrection 
from  the  dead  comes  through  Christ  without  any 
effort  on  our  part.  We  were  not  responsible  for 
Adam's  transgression,  therefore  we  are  redeemed 


ADDED  UPON  97 

from  its  effects  through  the  atonement  of  Christ,  all 
mankind  are,  both  good  and  bad — all  will  arise  and 
stand  before  God  to  be  judged  by  the  deeds  done  in 
the  body." 

"Yes;  I  admit  all  that;  but  it  is  hardly  plain  to 
me  what  we  must  do  to  be  freed  from  our  individual 
sins.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  sin.  We  are  in  a  mor 
tal  state  and  partake  of  our  surroundings.  Now, 
there  must  be  a  plan  by  which  we  may  be  rid  of 
these  imperfections,  for  if  we  are  ever  to  live  in  the 
presence  of  God,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  must  be 
pure  and  holy,  without  sin." 

Signe  had  her  book  open.  "I  will  read  here  an 
answer  to  your  question,"  she  said.  "You  remember 
that  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  when  the  Holy  Spirit 
was  given,  Peter  preached  to  a  large  crowd  of  people. 
Many  of  them  believed,  and  being  pricked  in  their 
hearts,  they  said:  'Men  and  brethren,  what  shall  we 
do?'  You  know  they  are  not  the  only  ones  who  have 
asked  that  question." 

"No,  you  are  right." 

"  'And  Peter  said  unto  them,  Repent,  and  be 
baptized  every  one  of  you  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ 
for  the  remission  of  sins,  and  ye  shall  receive  the 
gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost.'  That's  plain  enough,  isn't 
it?  Words  can  make  it  no  clearer.  When  Peter  saw 
that  they  had  faith,  he  told  them  to  repent,  then  be 
baptized  for  the  remission  of  their  sins,  then  they 
would  get  the  Holy  Ghost." 

"And  the  promise  was  to  them  and  to  their 
children  and  to  them  that  were  afar  off.  Signe,  is 


98  ADDED  UPON 

it  not  to  us  also?"  Rupert  asked,  eagerly,  "why 
shouldn't  it  be?" 

"The  promise  is  not  limited — it  is  to  you  and  to 
me.  I,  Rupert,  have  obeyed  Peter's  word,  and  have 
received  the  promise.  You  may  do  the  same,  and  the 
same  blessings  will  follow.  The  gospel  is  a  law,  a 
natural  law,  and  oh,  such  a  beautiful  one!" 

"Why  haven't  I  heard  this  before?"  exclaimed 
he.  "Why  isn't  it  written  in  our  books,  and  taught 
us  in  our  childhood?  Signe,  I  am  a  bit  bewildered 
yet." 

"Rupert,"  said  she,  with  a  smile  that  had  some 
thing  of  sadness  in  it,  "the  world  is  'Ever  learning 
but  never  able  to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth.'  'Darkness  has  covered  the  earth  and  gross 
darkness  the  people.'  'And  as  with  the  people,  so 
with  the  priest.'  'The  earth  also  is  defiled  under  the 
inhabitants  thereof;  because  they  have  transgressed 
the  laws,  changed  the  ordinance,  broken  the  everlast 
ing  covenant.'  Is  there  any  wonder  that  you  have  not 
heard  these  doctrines  before?  Though  you  may  read 
about  them  in  the  Bible,  the  world  has  been  without 
their  living  presence  for  many  hundreds  of  years. 
But  a  new  time  has  come  to  the  world.  The  gospel 
in  its  fulness  and  purity  has  been  restored.  We  read 
here  that  John,  on  the  Isle  of  Patmos,  saw  that  in 
the  latter  days  an  angel  would  'fly  in  the  midst  of 
heaven,  having  the  everlasting  gospel  to  preach  to 
them  that  dwell  on  the  earth.'  That  angel  has  come, 
Rupert,  that  gospel  has  been  restored;  and  what  I 
have  been  telling  you  are  the  teachings  of  that  gos 
pel.  Man  is  again  endowed  with  power  from  on 


ADDED  UPON  99 

high  to  preach  the  gospel  and  administer  its  ordi 
nances  to  those  who  believe." 

Rupert  listened  with  deepest  interest.  He  be 
came  as  a  disciple  at  her  feet.  They  talked  far  into 
the  night,  and  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Janson  came 
home  they  found  them  bending  low  over  the  fire 
reading  from  the  "good  old  book."  Their  heads  were 
close  together,  the  dark-brown  one  and  the  one 
of  soft,  silken  tresses. 


X. 


"I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I 
have  kept  the  faith."—//  Tim.  4:7. 

Rupert  was  now  continually  thinking  of  the 
great  questions  of  life.  Never  before  had  he  been 
so  stirred  in  his  feelings;  never  before  had  he  con 
templated  life  in  the  light  which  now  came  to  him. 
His  heart  was  full  of  love,  gratitude,  and  praise 
which  swelled  within  him,  and  seemed  to  take  pos 
session  of  his  whole  being. 

The  winter  passed,  and  Rupert  closed  his  school. 
He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  school  teaching  was 
not  his  forte,  though  the  people  were  satisfied  with 
his  work.  He  longed  to  be  out  digging  ditches.  He 
liked  it  far  better,  and  conjectured  that  in  this  world 
his  mission  was  to  make  the  physical  deserts  to  blos 
som  as  the  rose. 

During  the  summer,  Chamogo  valley  did  under 
go  a  change.  One  side  of  the  valley  was  brought  un 
der  irrigation,  and  a  number  of  farms  were  sold  at 


100  ADDED  UPON 

a  good  profit.  Mr.  Janson  did  right  by  Rupert, 
and  together  they  worked  and  prospered. 

And  that  which  now  filled  Rupert's  cup  of  hap 
piness  was  the  fact  that  he  had  rendered  obedience  to 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  had  received  the 
promised  gifts  and  blessings  following.  The  light 
that  leadeth  into  all  truth  was  his.  With  Signe  and 
her  co-religionists,  he  could  now  see  eye  to  eye,  all 
having  the  same  glorious  hope  for  the  future. 

One  more  winter  passed;  and  when  nature  had 
spread  her  robe  of  green  over  Chamogo  valley,  prep 
arations  were  made  for  the  ceremony  that  would 
make  Rupert  and  Signe  husband  and  wife.  Rupert 
longed  to  see  Willowby  and  Dry  Bench  once  more, 
so  it  was  decided  that  after  they  had  visited  the 
Temple  of  God  and  had  been  sealed  to  each  other 
for  time  and  all  eternity,  they  would  take  a  trip  to 
Rupert's  old  home.  They  were  married  in  the  Tem 
ple.  Within  its  sacred  walls  they  experienced  more 
fully  than  ever  before  what  still  sweetness  there  is 
in  the  ministrations  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 

They  reached  Willowby  late  in  September.  He 
had  written  Nina  when  he  would  be  there,  and  she 
and  her  husband  were  at  the  station  to  meet  them. 

There  were  tears  in  their  eyes  at  the  meeting. 

"Nina,  this  is  my  wife,"  said  Rupert.  "Signe, 
my  sister,  Mrs.  Furns." 

A  number  of  Rupert's  old  friends  were  there 
who  now  came  forward  and  welcomed  him  home. 

Then  they  rode  through  the  valley  behind  two 
spirited  grays.  Nina  had  not  changed  much,  but  she 


ADDED  UPON  101 

declared  that  had  she  met  her  brother  on  the  street, 
she  would  not  have  known  him. 

"What  has  changed  you  so,  brother?"  asked  she. 

"Experience,  Nina,  experience  with  the  world. 
I  have  lived  a  long  time  in  the  two  and  a  half  years 
that  I  have  been  away — but  never  mind  that  now. 
Everything  looks  the  same  hereabouts.  I  seem  to 
have  been  absent  but  a  few  days.  How  strange  it  is! 
Signe,  there  you  see  Willowby,  on  that  rise;  quite  a 
town  yet.  How's  Dry  Bench,  James?" 

"Much  the  same,  Rupe.  No  improvements 
since  you  left." 

"And  the  reservoir?" 

"As  you  left  it,  though  it  needs  repairing 
badly." 

In  the  few  moments  of  silence  that  followed, 
Rupert  contrasted  his  condition  now  with  what  it 
was  when  he  left  the  place.  What  a  change!  He 
was  wiser  if  not  much  older.  And  then  he  had  a 
wife — and  he  looked  lovingly  at  her  as  he  thought 
of  all  she  had  done  for  him.  As  they  drove  into 
town,  friends  greeted  him  and  seemed  pleased  at  his 
return.  Married?  Yes;  that  is  his  wife.  Not  so 
dashing  as  Miss  Wilton,  but  far  more  charming,  was 
the  general  expression. 

That  evening  there  was  quite  a  social  gathering 
at  Nina's. 

Early  next  morning,  before  others  of  the  house 
hold  were  astir,  Rupert  and  Signe  went  up  to  Dry 
Bench.  A  beautiful  morning  greeted  them.  They 
walked  up  towards  the  hill  that  they  might  get  a 
good  view  of  the  farm,  and  when  they  turned,  Dry 


102  ADDED  UPON 

Bench  was  before  them.  The  trees  had  grown,  but 
otherwise  it  was  the  same  scene  that  he  had  looked 
upon  many  and  many  a  time.  The  memory  of  a 
particular  morning  came  to  him — the  morning  when 
Miss  Wilton's  horse  had  run  away.  Miss  Wilton 
had  never  been  heard  of  since  she  left  Willowby. 

"How  beautiful!"  exclaimed  Signe.  "Do  you 
know,  Rupert,  it  reminds  me  of  a  scene  in  Norway. 
I  must  make  a  sketch  here  before  we  leave." 

"Sit  down  on  this  rock,"  said  he,  "while  I  tell 
you  something.  Here's  my  overcoat."  He  made  a 
seat  for  her  and  he  stood  by  her  side. 

"Signe,  nearly  six  years  ago,  I  stood  here  on  this 
spot.  I  was  the  owner  of  the  farm  that  you  see.  In 
fact,  I  dug  this  ditch.  I  set  out  that  orchard,  I 
planned  and  built  the  reservoir  that  has  made  all 
this  possible;  and  then  I  stood  here,  and  in  the  pride 
of  my  heart  I  said :  'All  this  is  mine.  I  have  done  it 
all.'  Now  I  understand  that  God  put  me  on  trial, 
lent  me  some  of  His  riches  to  try  me,  and  then,  see 
ing  that  I  was  not  in  a  condition  to  stand  such  favors, 
took  them  all  from  me.  Yes,  it  was  a  blessing  in 
disguise.  Darling,  for  this  knowledge  I  am  indebted 
to  you,"  and  he  leaned  over  and  kissed  her. 

"There  you  are  wrong  again,"  she  said;  "what 
about  God  above?" 

"You  are  right.  'Tis  He  only  who  should  have 
our  gratitude.  You  have  been  but  an  instrument  in 
His  hand.  I  see  it  all.  O  Father,  forgive  my  foolish 
thoughts."  He  uncovered  his  head,  as  if  in  prayer. 

He  sat  down  with  her  on  the  stone.  The  smoke 
began  to  rise  from  the  chimneys  of  the  town  below, 


ADDED  UPON  103 

and  soon  the  Dry  Bench  farm-houses  showed  signs 
of  life.  He  pressed  her  cheek  against  his  own. 

"Sweetheart,"  said  he,  "  'When  love  has  blended 
and  molded  two  beings  in  an  angelic  and  sacred 
union,  they  have  found  the  secret  of  life;  henceforth 
they  are  only  the  two  terms  of  the  same  destiny,  the 
two  wings  of  one  mind.  Love  and  soar.'  That  is 
from  Victor  Hugo;  how  true  it  is." 

After  a  time  they  went  down  to  the  old  home. 
A  Mr.  Temming  was  living  there,  as  a  renter.  He 
was  not  acquainted  with  Mr.  Ames,  and  was  not  dis 
posed  to  show  much  courtesy,  so  they  left. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  place?"  he  asked. 

"I  like  it." 

"Could  you  live  there?" 

"All  my  life,  I  could.  Rupert,  I  see  you  in  every 
tree,  fence,  and  ditch." 

He  laughed  at  that. 

"I  can  now  buy  the  place.    Shall  I?" 

"Yes,   do." 

"You  don't  object?  Would  you  really  like  to 
live  there?" 

"I  think,  my  dear,  that  you  can  do  much  good 
here.  We  ought  to  live  where  we  can  do  the  most 
good." 

And  so  it  was  settled.  Next  day  Rupert  in 
quired  after  the  owner  of  the  farm  which  once  was 
his,  and  learned  that  it  was  in  the  hands  of  a  real 
estate  dealer.  He  made  his  way  to  the  office  and 
knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  partly  open.  A  man 
was  sitting  at  a  desk,  but  he  evidently  did  not  hear, 
so  Rupert  stepped  into  the  room,  at  the  same  time 


104  ADDED  UPON 

giving  the  door  another  loud  rap.  Still  the  man  did 
not  hear. 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Rupert. 

The  man  turned. 

"Volmer,  Volmer  Holm,  is  it  you?" 

"Rupert  Ames,  I'm  pleased  to  see  you.  When 
did  you  come  to  town?  Have  a  chair." 

"Are  you  in  the  real  estate  business?" 

"I  can't  hear  very  well,  and  you'll  have  to  speak 
at  close  range,  Rupe." 

So  they  put  their  chairs  close  together,  and  Ru 
pert  repeated  his  last  question. 

"Yes,  a  man  must  do  something;  but  there's 
nothing  going  on  now — nothing  in  our  line." 

Rupert  looked  in  pity  at  his  friend.  Quite  shab 
bily  dressed  he  was,  and  a  careworn  expression  on 
his  face  made  him  look  ten  years  older.  He  wore 
glasses,  which  he  pushed  up  on  his  forehead,  and 
then  took  a  good  look  at  Rupert. 

"Well,  well,  Rupe,  and  where  have  you  been 
keeping  yourself?  An'  I've  had  luck,  I  tell  you — you 
haven't  heard,  perhaps?" 

"No;   I  haven't.     What's  it   been,   Volmer?" 

"Was  getting  fifty  dollars  a  week  leading  the 
orchestra  at  the  Grand  in  Chicago,  when  I  got  sick. 
Don't  know  what  it  was,  Rupe — the  doctors  didn't 
know.  Got  into  my  ears,  and  that  knocked  me — 
couldn't  tell  one  note  from  another;  so,  of  course, 
that  let  me  out.  Hard  luck,  Rupe,  hard  luck.  Tough 
world  this,  Rupe.  Why  God  Almighty  crams  a  fel 
low's  head  full  of  music,  and  then  disables  him  so's 
he  can't  make  use  of  it,  I  don't  know — I  don't  know." 


ADDED  UPON  105 

Rupert  sympathized  with  his  friend,  and  then 
told  him  of  his  errand.  A  ray  of  sunshine  seemed  to 
enter  the  musician's  life.  The  property  was  for  sale, 
yes,  and  cheap,  dirt  cheap;  so  the  transaction  was 
partly  arranged,  and  Volmer  Holm  went  home  to  his 
wife  and  four  children  with  quite  a  happy  heart  that 
day. 

"It's  too  bad  about  Volmer  Holm,"  said  Rupert 
to  his  sister.  "I  had  not  heard  of  his  misfortune. 
Such  a  genius  in  music,  too." 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Nina,  "it  may 
be  all  for  the  best.  Rumor  had  it  that  he  was  fast 
getting  into  bad  ways  in  Chicago;  and  some  men  are 
better  off  by  being  poor,  anyway." 

"Yes,  that's  so,"  was  all  he  said. 

Rupert  Ames  was  again  the  owner  of  Dry  Bench 
farm,  and  the  next  spring  they  moved  into  the  old 
home.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Janson  came  with  them  to  visit, 
but  their  interests  in  Chamogo  would  not  allow  of  a 
protracted  stay.  Signe  was  already  in  love  with  her 
new  home.  With  her  taste  for  the  artistic,  she  soon 
had  the  place  comfortable,  and  Rupert  was  never 
more  satisfied  than  when  he  came  in  where  his  wife's 
adept  fingers  had  been  at  work  to  adorn.  It  was  the 
dear  old  home  to  him  with  an  added  beauty,  lacking 
only  his  mother's  presence  to  make  it  perfect. 

Then  they  sent  for  Signe's  family.  It  was  hard 
for  the  father  to  make  ends  meet  in  his  native  land, 
and  Rupert  needed  just  such  help  as  Hr.  Dahl  could 
give.  In  due  time  they  arrived,  and  were  installed 
in  a  cottage  near  Rupert's  farm. 


106  ADDED  UPON 

In  peace  and  prosperity,  the  days,  months,  and 
years  went  by;  and  Rupert  Ames  became  a  light  to 
the  surrounding  world,  and  a  teacher  of  righteous 
ness  to  his  brethren. 

It  was  the  sixth  year  after  Rupert's  return  that 
the  citizens  of  the  Bench  decided  to  enlarge  the  res 
ervoir  in  Dry  Hollow.  Rupert  was  given  the  work 
to  supervise,  and  he  entered  upon  the  task  with  his 
usual  energy. 

That  morning  in  September,  when  he  gave  his 
wife  the  usual  departing  kiss,  the  children — four  of 
them,  were  hanging  about  his  legs  and  clinging  to 
his  coat  in  great  glee. 

"Now  papa  must  go,"  said  he,  as  he  tried  to 
shake  them  off. 

"A  kiss,  another  kiss,"  "A  tiss,  some  more 
tisses/'  they  shouted. 

So  he  lifted  them  up,  one  by  one,  and  kissed 
them  again.  Then  his  arm  went  around  his  wife's 
neck,  and  he  drew  her  face  to  his. 

"Goodbye,  sweetheart,"  said  he,  "take  care  of 
the  children,  and  don't  forget  me,"  and  he  tried  to 
hum  a  song  as  he  walked  to  the  gate.  Signe  stood 
watching  him.  The  tune  which  floated  back  to  her 
was,  "0,  my  Father."  Then  a  peculiar  feeling  came 
over  her,  and  she  sat  down  crying,  while  the  children 
climbed  over  her  with  questions  and  comforting 
words. 

Terrible  news  from  Dry  Hollow!    A  blast,  pre- 


ADDED  UPON  107 

maturely  exploded,  had  seriously  injured  some  of 
the  workmen,  and  Rupert  Ames  had  been  killed — 
hurled  down  the  ravine  and  nearly  buried  under  fall 
ing  rock. 

Break  the  news  gently  to  his  wife  and  children. 
Do  not  let  them  see  that  bruised,  bleeding  form. 
Spare  them  all  you  can. 

Yes;  it  was  all  done — all  that  lay  in  human 
power  was  done;  and  hundreds  of  people  to  whom 
Rupert  Ames  had  opened  up  new  light,  and  in  the 
providence  of  God,  had  given  them  a  tangible  hope 
of  the  future,  gathered  around  his  body  and  mingled 
their  tears  with  those  of  his  children's. 

Another  immortal  soul's  earthly  mission  was 
ended.  Life's  school  had  closed  for  him.  Into  an 
other  sphere  he  had  gone.  The  Great  Schoolmaster 
had  promoted  him. 

And  Mrs.  Signe  Ames,  after  it  all,  simply  said: 

"God  knows  best.  He  has  but  gone  before.  He 
was  my  husband  for  time,  he  is  my  husband  for 
eternity.  His  mission  is  there,  mine  is  here.  In  the 
morrow,  we  shall  meet  again." 

XI. 

"Go  ye  into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature." — Mark  16:15. 

Hr.  Henrik  Bogstad  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
before  the  fire  in  great  relief.  He  had  just  shown 
out  a  young  man  who  was  distributing  religious 
tracts  dealing  with  some  "new-fangled  religion" 
lately  imported  from  America,  that  land  of  all  new- 


108  ADDED  UPON 

fangled  things.  All  the  day,  Hr.  Bogstad  had  been 
adjusting  some  difficulties  among  his  tenants,  and 
that  evening  he  was  somewhat  ill-humored.  His 
treatment  of  the  missionary,  was,  therefore,  harsher 
than  he  was  wont  to  treat  either  strangers  or  friends. 

His  conscience  smote  him  a  little  as  he  thought 
of  what  the  young  American  had  said.  He  could 
find  no  fault  with  the  religious  doctrines  advanced, 
but  why  should  he  be  bothered  with  religion  any 
way?  He  had  cares  enough;  for  a  great  responsibil 
ity  had  come  to  him  since  he  had  been  put  in  charge 
of  the  estate  left  by  his  father's  death.  Just  now 
was  the  season  of  gaiety  in  Christiania,  and  here  he 
was  missing  a  good  many  things  by  his  enforced 
visit  to  his  country  home. 

After  musing  for  some  time,  he  got  up  and  went 
to  the  window.  Outside,  the  snow  covered  every 
thing — the  fields,  the  roads,  the  frozen  lake  and  river. 
The  houses  were  half  hidden,  and  the  pines  on  the 
hill  bore  up  great  banks  of  snow.  From  the  window 
the  view  was  beautiful  in  its  solemn  whiteness.  From 
the  white  level  of  the  distant  frozen  lake,  broken 
patches  of  brown  protruded.  These  were  the  islands 
on  one  of  which  Signe  Dahl  had  lived.  Henrik  won 
dered  what  had  become  of  her,  and  where  in  the  big 
America  she  had  taken  up  her  abode.  He  had  heard 
that  she  was  well  and  happy,  but  further  than  that 
he  had  not  set  himself  to  learn.  Long  ago  he  had 
put  behind  him  philosophically  his  affair  with  Signe. 
He  had  ceased  to  think  of  her  as  anything  more  than 
a  sweet,  yet  strange  girl  who  could  resist  such  an 
offer  as  he  had  extended  to  her. 


ADDED  UPON  109 

As  Henrik  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  he 
saw  the  young  stranger  who  had  visited  him  less 
than  an  hour  ago,  returning  down  the  road.  Just  as 
he  was  about  to  pass,  Henrik  hailed  him  and  asked 
him  to  come  in  again,  meeting  him  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  he  said;  "I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

The  missionary  placed  his  grip  on  a  chair  and 
seated  himself  on  another. 

"I  was  somewhat  cross  with  you  when  you 
called,"  said  Henrik.  "I  don't  want  you  to  think 
that  I  am  rude,  especially  to  strangers." 

"I  was  not  the  least  offended,"  smiled  the 
other. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
something  about  America.  I've  never  been  there, 
though  I  expect  to  go  some  day.  I  have  some  friends 
and  a  good  many  relatives  over  there.  From  what 
part  do  you  come?" 

"I  am  from  Wyoming." 

"That's  away  out  west,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Two  uncles  of  mine  live  in  Minnesota,  but 
that's  a  long  way  from  Wyoming.  Where  are  you 
staying  here,  for  the  night?" 

"I  am  a  traveling  minister  of  the  gospel  and  I 
stay  wherever  there  is  an  opportunity." 

"Then  you'll  stay  with  me  tonight.  I  am  not 
much  on  religion,  but  if  you  will  mix  a  little  infor 
mation  about  America  with  your  preaching,  I  shall 
be  pleased  to  listen  to  you." 

These  conditions  were  easily  agreed  to.  So, 
after  a  good  supper,  the  two  young  men  seated  them- 


110  ADDED  UPON 

selves  comfortably  by  the  shaded  lamp  on  the  library 
table.  The  missionary  spread  out  his  book  of  views 
and  explained  each  of  the  pictures.  He  told  of  the 
great  stretch  of  arid  land  in  western  America,  of 
the  ranches,  of  the  high  mountains,  of  the  fertile 
valleys  made  fruitful  by  irrigation,  and  of  the  won 
ders  of  the  great  Salt  Lake. 

"This  is  the  Temple." 

"Yes;  and  what  is  that  for?" 

The  purposes  of  temples  were  explained. 

"You  say  you  baptize  for  the  dead?"  enquired 
Henrik,  "How  is  that?" 

"Well,  as  I  was  telling  you  when  I  called  on 
you  some  time  ago — " 

"Pardon  me,  but  I  must  confess  that  I  did  not 
pay  enough  attention  to  what  you  said  to  remember. 
I  was  thinking  about  those  quarreling  tenants  of 
mine.  Tell  me  again." 

The  other  smiled  good-naturedly,  and  did  as  he 
was  asked.  Henrik  listened  this  time,  and  was  in 
deed  interested,  asking  a  good  many  questions. 

"Now,  about  the  Temple,"  continued  the  mis 
sionary — "we  believe  that  every  soul  that  has  ever 
lived  on  the  earth,  that  is  living  now,  or  that  will 
ever  live  must  have  the  privilege  of  hearing  this  gos 
pel  of  Jesus  Christ.  There  is  only  one  name  given 
under  heaven  by  which  men  may  be  saved,  and  every 
creature  must  hear  that  name.  Now,  the  great  ma 
jority  of  the  human  race  has  never  heard  the  gos 
pel;  in  fact,  will  not  hear  it  in  this  life." 

"Where,  then,  can  they  hear  it?" 

"In  the  great  spirit  world.     Christ,  when  He 


ADDED  UPON  111 

was  put  to  death  went  and  preached  to  the  spirits 
in  prison — those  who  were  disobedient  in  the  days 
of  Noah  and  were  destroyed  in  the  flood;  and  no 
doubt  the  saving  power  of  Christ  has  been  pro 
claimed  in  that  spirit  world  ever  since.  Among  those 
who  hear,  many  will  believe.  They  have  faith,  they 
repent  of  their  sins,  but  they  can  not  be  baptized 
in  water  for  the  remission  of  their  sins." 

"No;  of  course  not." 

"And  yet  Christ  definitely  said  that  unless  a 
man  is  born  again  of  water  and  of  the  spirit  he  can 
not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  What  is  to  be 
done?" 

The  listener,  leaning  over  the  table,  merely 
shook  his  head. 

Paul  speaks  in  I  Cor.  15:29  of  some  who  were 
baptized  for  the  dead — and  that  is  a  correct  prin 
ciple.  The  living  may  be  baptized  for  the  dead,  so 
that  those  who  have  left  this  world  may  receive  the 
gospel  in  the  spirit  world  and  have  the  birth  of  the 
water  done  for  them  vicariously  by  someone  in  the 
flesh." 

"This  is  strange  doctrine." 

"Temples  are  used  for  these  baptisms.  The 
Latter-day  Saints  are  busy  tracing  back  as  far  as 
possible  their  lines  of  ancestry,  and  then  they  are 
going  into  their  temples — for  they  have  already 
four  of  them — and  are  doing  this  work  for  their 
dead.  In  this  way  is  being  fulfilled  Malachi's  pre 
diction  that  Elijah  the  Prophet  should  come  before 
the  great  and  dreadful  day  of  the  Lord,  'and  He  shall 
turn  the  heart  of  the  fathers  to  the  children,  and 


112  ADDED  UPON 

the  heart  of  the  children  to  their  fathers/  lest  the 
Lord  come  and  smite  the  earth  with  a  curse.  You 
will  find  this  in  the  last  chapter  of  the  Old  Testa 
ment." 

The  lamp  burned  late  into  the  night  as  these 
two  men  sat  by  it  talking;  and  the  conversation  was 
not,  as  one  of  them  had  planned,  for  the  most  part 
about  the  land  of  America  and  its  material  oppor 
tunities. 

XII. 

"Whosoever  he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh  not  all  that  he 
hath,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple." — Luke  14-'SS 

"I  cannot  understand  him,"  Frue  Bogstad  was 
saying.  "His  actions  are  so  strange." 

"It's  simply  wicked  of  him,"  added  Froken  Sel- 
ma  Bogstad.  "He  is  bringing  the  whole  family  into 
disrepute." 

The  mother  did  not  reply,  but  turned  her  face 
thoughtfully  away  from  the  angry  daughter. 

"The  boy  is  completely  carried  away  with  this 
American  religion,"  continued  the  girl,  pacing  ner 
vously  back  and  forth  in  the  room  "Pastor  Tonset 
called  to  see  him  the  other  day,  and  you  ought  to 
have  heard  them!  The  pastor,  as  our  friend,  came  to 
advise  him;  but  do  you  think  Henrik  would  take  any 
advice?  Why,  he  even  argued  with  the  pastor,  say 
ing  that  he  could  prove  the  truth  of  this  religion 
from  the  Scriptures." 

"Has  he  talked  to  you  about  it?" 


ADDED  UPON  113 

''Yes;  and  he  wanted  me  to  accompany  him  to 
Osterhausgaden  where  these  people  hold  meetings. 
I  told  him  definitely  and  forcibly  that  I  didn't  want 
him  to  mention  religion  to  me." 

"He  seems  to  be  in  such  deep  earnest." 

"And  that's  the  pity  of  it.  It  does  no  good  to 
talk  to  him.  He  takes  it  for  granted  that  he  should 
be  persecuted.  I  believe  he  is  ready  to  give  up  every 
thing  for  this  creed  that  has  him  in  its  grasp." 

A  violent  ringing  of  the  bell  brought  Selma  to 
the  door.  It  was  Henrik,  who  had  forgotten  his 
latch  key.  He  hung  up  his  hat,  wiped  the  perspira 
tion  from  his  face,  for  it  was  a  warm  evening;  then 
he  said  cheerily: 

"Spring  is  coming;  I  feel  it  in  the  air.  I'll  be 
glad  to  get  out  to  Nordal — there  is  so  much  to  do 
this  summer — " 

"Young  man,"  interruped  the  sister,  "we  have 
been  talking  about  you." 

"About  my  wickedness,  I  suppose." 

"About  your  foolishness.  It  isn't  very  pleasant 
for  us — what  you're  doing." 

"What  am  I  doing?  That  which  is  unkind  to 
you,  mother?"  He  placed  his  arms  lovingly  around 
her  shoulders,  but  she  sat  without  replying,  her  face 
in  her  handkerchief.  He  turned  to  Selma. 

"What  have  I  done?"  he  asked.  "Do  I  drink? 
Do  I  gamble?  Do  I  steal?  Do  I  lie?  Do  I  profane? 
Do  I  treat  any  of  you  unkindly?  Am  I  disrespectful 
to  my  mother  or  my  sister?" 

"You  associate  with  a  people  known  every 
where  as  the  scum  of  the  earth,"  snapped  the  sister, 


114  ADDED  UPON 

as  she  stood  in  front  of  him.  "You  are  disgracing 
us  —  the  whole  Bogstad  family — you  —  but  what's 
the  use  of  talking  to  you." 

"Not  a  bit  of  use  that  way,  dear  sister.  Sup 
pose  you  answer  some  of  my  questions.  You  accuse, 
but  never  bring  proof.  You  would  rather  believe 
uninformed  people  than  me.  You  accept  hearsay, 
but  will  not  listen  to  the  truth  I  wish  to  tell  you.  I 
have  asked  you  to  point  out  some  of  the  bad  things 
taught  by  the  Latter-day  Saints,  but  so  far  you  have 
never  tried.  I  have  invited  you  to  go  with  me — " 

"Do  you  think  I  would  thus  disgrace  myself  to 
appear  in  their  meetings!" 

"You  will  not  even  read  a  simple  tract;  you 
close  your  eyes  and  ears.  You  push  God  from  you 
when  you  say  that  He  does  not  reveal  Himself  any 
more;  and  so  does  Pastor  Tonset  and  all  his  follow 
ers.  Because  I  am  willing  to  receive  light,  even 
though  it  comes  from  a  'sect  everywhere  spoken 
against,'  I  am  a  bad  man.  I  tell  you,  my  sister,  and 
also  you,  my  mother,  I  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  dis 
grace  to  the  Bogstad  family,  but  the  time  will  come 
when  you  and  all  that  family  will  thank  the  Lord 
that  one  member  of  the  family  heard  the  truth,  and 
had  courage  enough  to  accept  it!" 

Selma  walked  to  the  door,  and  now  passed  out 
without  replying.  Henrik  sat  down  by  his  mother, 
and  the  two  continued  to  converse  in  low,  quiet 
tones. 

The  mother's  hair  was  white,  the  face  pinched 
from  much  suffering,  the  hands  shrunken.  Selma's 
talk  disturbed  her,  as  did  that  of  a  score  or  more  of 


ADDED  UPON  115 

interested  relatives;  but  when  she  talked  with  Hen- 
rik  alone  she  was  at  peace,  and  she  listened  quietly 
to  what  he  told  her.  She  was  so  old  and  weak  and 
traditionated  in  the  belief  of  her  fathers  that  she 
could  grasp  but  feebly  the  principles  taught  her  by 
Henrik;  but  this  she  knew,  that  there  was  something 
in  his  tone  and  manner  of  speech  that  soothed  her 
and  drove  away  the  resentment  and  hardness  of 
heart  left  by  the  talk  of  others. 

"You  know,  mother,"  Henrik  was  saying,  "this 
restored  gospel  answers  so  many  of  life's  perplexing 
questions.  It  is  broad,  full  of  common  sense,  and 
mercy.  Father,  as  you  well  know,  was  not  a  religious 
man.  When  he  died,  Pastor  Tonset  gave  it  as  his 
opinion  that  father  was  a  lost  soul — " 

"Father  was  a  good  man." 

"I  know  he  was,  mother;  and  to  say  that  be 
cause  he  could  not  believe  in  the  many  inconsisten 
cies  taught  as  religious  truths,  he  is  everlastingly 
lost,  doesn't  appeal  to  me — never  did.  Father,  as 
all  of  us,  will  continue  to  learn  in  the  spirit  world 
to  which  all  must  go;  and  when  the  time  comes,  he 
will,  no  doubt,  see  the  truths  of  the  gospel  and  ac 
cept  them.  And  here  is  where  the  beauty  of  true  re 
ligion  comes  in:  it  teaches  that  there  is  hope  beyond 
the  grave;  that  salvation  is  not  limited  to  this  life; 
that  every  soul  will  have  a  chance,  either  here  or 
hereafter.  You,  mother,  have  worried  over  father's 
condition.  Don't  do  it  any  more;  he  will  be  all 
right."  He  felt  like  adding  that  she  had  more  rea 
son  to  worry  over  the  living,  but  he  said  no  more. 

Selma  came  in  with  the  coffee,  and  no  further 


116  ADDED  UPON 

discourse  was  had  on  religious  topics.  Although 
Henrik  had  quit  using  coffee  with  his  meals,  he  oc 
casionally  sipped  a  little  in  the  company  of  his 
mother.  This  evening  he  took  the  proffered  cup  from 
his  sister,  who  soon  withdrew  again,  and  then  Hen 
rik  and  his  mother  continued  their  talk.  It  was 
along  the  lines  of  the  old  faith,  grounded  into  them 
and  their  forefathers  since  Christianity  had  been 
"reformed"  in  their  country.  As  a  boy,  Henrik  had 
not  been  religious,  as  that  term  was  understood  by 
his  people,  but  nevertheless  he  had  in  him  a  strain 
of  true  devotion  which  the  message  of  the  American 
missionary  had  aroused.  However,  this  revival 
within  the  young  man  did  not  meet  with  the  favor 
of  his  friends,  and  he  was  looked  upon  as  having 
come  under  the  influence  of  some  evil,  heretical 
power,  much  to  their  regret. 

"Marie  is  here,"  announced  Selma  from  the 
door. 

Henrik  arose.  "Where  is  she?  I  did  not  know 
she  was  in  town." 

"She  is  in  the  east  room." 
"Tell  her  to  come  in." 
"She  says  she  wants  to  see  you  alone." 
"All  right.    Good  night  then,  mother.  Pleasant 
dreams  to  you." 

Henrik  found  Marie  sitting  by  the  open  window 
looking  over  the  tops  of  the  shrubbery  in  the  garden. 
The  light  from  the  setting  sun  bathed  her  in  its 
glow,  increasing  the  beauty  of  an  already  beautiful 
face.  Henrik  stepped  up  behind  the  girl  and  placed 


ADDED  UPON  117 

his  hands  under  her  chin.  She  did  not  turn  her 
head. 

"This  is  a  surprise,"  he  said,  "but  I  am  so  glad 
to  see  you.  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  time  at  Skar- 
pen?" 

There  was  no  reply.  The  young  woman  still 
surveyed  the  garden  and  the  darkening  shadows  on 
the  lawn. 

"What  is  the  matter,  little  girl?"  he  asked.  He 
felt  the  trembling  of  her  chin  as  she  removed  his 
hands. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  did  not  have  a  good  time." 

"I'm  sorry.    What  was  wrong?" 

"You  were  not  there — you  were  somewhere  else, 
where  your  heart  is  more  than  with  me — you  were, 
no  doubt  at  Osterhausgade."  She  hardened  her 
tone  as  she  proceeded. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  there  all  the  time,"  he  laughed. 

"You  think  more  of  the  people  you  meet  there 
than  you  do  of  me,  at  any  rate." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?" 

"You,  and  your  actions.  0,  Henrik,  could  you 
but  hear  the  talk — I  hear  it,  and  people  look  so 

strangely  at  me,  and  pity  me I  can't  stand  it!" 

She  arose  as  if  to  escape  him,  walked  across  the 
room,  then  sat  down  by  the  center  table.  He  closed 
the  window  blind,  then  lighted  the  gas,  and  seated 
himself  opposite  her  by  the  table.  There  was  a 
pause  which  she  at  last  broke  by  saying: 

"I  hear  that  you  are  actually  going  to  join  those 
horrid  people — is  that  true?" 


118  ADDED  UPON 

There  was  another  long  silence  as  they  looked 
at  each  other  across  the  table. 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

"Next  week?" 

"That  was  my  intention — yes." 

"And  we  were  to  be  married  next  month?" 

"Yes—" 

''Well,  I  want  to  tell  you,  Henrik,  that  if  you 
join  those  people  the  wedding  day  will  have  to  be 
postponed." 

"For  how  long?" 

"For  a  long,  long  time." 

"Well — I  had  thought  to  be  baptized  next  week; 
but,  of  course,  I  can  postpone  it." 

"For  good,  Henrik — say  for  good." 

"No;  I  can't  say  that;  for  a  little  while  —  to 
please  you,  to  let  you  think  a  little  longer  on  the 
matter.  I  want  you  to  choose  deliberately,  Marie. 
There  need  be  no  undue  haste.  I  don't  want  you  to 
make  up  your  mind  unalterably  to  reject  me  because 
of  the  step  which  I  am  going  to  take." 

"I  have  already  made  up  my  mind." 

"Marie!" 

"You  must  choose  between  me  or — " 

"Don't  say  it,  don't;  you'll  be  sorry  some  day, 
if  you  do;  for  the  less  said,  the  less  there  is  to  re 
tract." 

Marie  arose.  "I'm  not  going  to  take  anything 
back,"  she  answered  with  forceful  anger.  "I  thought 
you  loved  me,  but — I — have  been  mistaken.  I  shall 
not  annoy  you  longer.  Good  night." 

He  arose  to  follow  her.     "You  need  not  come 


ADDED  UPON  119 

with  me,"  she  added.  "I  shall  see  Selma,  and  she 
will  accompany  me  home — not  you." 

"Very  well,  Marie." 

She  turned  at  the  door.  "Will  you  not  promise?" 

"Promise  what?" 

"Not  to  do  as  you  said — not  to  disgrace — " 

"Marie,  where  the  light  shines,  I  must  follow; 
where  the  truth  beckons,  I  must  go.  I — " 

With  a  low  cry  the  girl  turned  and  fled  from  the 
room. 

XIII. 

"The  Lord  alone  did  lead  him.— Deut.  S2:lg. 

One  beautiful  summer  evening,  Henrik  Bogstad 
was  baptized  in  the  waters  of  the  Christiania  fjord. 
After  that,  the  truths  of  the  gospel  appeared  clearer 
than  ever,  and  still  whisperings  of  the  Spirit,  to 
which  he  now  had  legal  right,  testified  to  his  spirit 
that  he  was  in  the  way  of  salvation,  narrow  and 
straight  perhaps,  but  glowing  with  a  light  that  com 
forted  and  cheered. 

He  told  none  of  his  family  or  friends  of  his  bap 
tism.  They  had  already  rejected  him  as  far  as  they 
could,  and  they  asked  him  no  questions.  His  sister 
would  hardly  speak  to  him,  and  Marie  cut  him  open 
ly.  His  many  uncles,  aunts,  and  cousins  were  cold 
and  unfeeling.  His  mother,  though  feeble,  and  sink 
ing  slowly,  was  the  only  one  of  his  family  that  he 
could  talk  to.  She  seemed  to  understand  and 
believe  him.  He  felt  that  in  spirit  they  were  one, 


120  ADDED  UPON 

and  he  received  great  comfort  from  the   thought. 

About  Midsummer  the  mother  died.  Then 
Henrik  spent  most  of  his  time  at  Nordal.  There  was 
peace  in  the  solitude  of  the  pine-clad  hills,  there  was 
comfort  in  the  waving  fields  of  grain  and  the  clear- 
flowing  streams.  The  lake  spread  out  to  his  view 
from  his  window,  and  he  gazed  at  its  beauty,  some 
times  his  mind  wandering  from  the  Dahl  home  on 
the  island  westward  to  unknown  America.  And 
America  had  a  new  meaning  for  him  now.  Before, 
it  had  been  simply  a  new  wonder-land,  with  untold 
possibilities  in  a  material  way;  but  added  to  this 
there  was  now  the  fact  that  in  America  the  Latter- 
day  Zion  was  to  be  built;  there  the  people  of  God 
were  gathering,  were  building  temples,  preparatory 
to  the  glorious  coming  of  the  Lord. 

Henrik  soon  caught  the  spirit  of  gathering,  but 
he  quenched  it  as  much  as  possible.  His  brethren 
in  the  gospel  advised  him  to  remain  where  he  was 
and  do  his  full  duty  to  his  sister  and  their  interests. 
This  he  tried  to  do.  He  would  not  quarrel  with  Sel- 
ma,  but  was  exceedingly  patient  and  considerate. 
He  would  "talk  religion"  with  any  of  his  friends  who 
expressed  a  desire  to  do  so,  but  he  would  not  contend. 

Henrik  mingled  more  freely  with  his  tenants  at 
Nordal,  and  they  soon  became  aware  of  a  change  in 
him.  He  gave  them  good  treatment.  Sometimes, 
there  were  Sunday  services  in  the  large  parlor  of  the 
Bogstad  residence,  and  the  people  were  invited  to 
attend.  They  turned  out,  it  must  be  admitted,  more 
because  of  Hr.  Bogstad's  invitation  than  because  of 
any  enthusiasm  on  their  part. 


ADDED  UPON  121 

Henrik,  during  this  period  of  comparative  lone 
liness,  read  much.  He  always  carried  a  book  in  his 
pocket  when  out  among  the  hills  and  fields,  and 
many  a  moss-covered  stone  became  his  reading  table. 
He  had  procured  a  number  of  English  books  which  he 
delighted  in,  for  they  brought  to  him  much  that  had 
not  yet  been  printed  in  his  own  language. 

After  the  harvesting  was  over  that  summer, 
Henrik  directed  his  attention  to  another  line  of  work, 
pointed  out  to  him  by  the  New  Light.  He  gathered 
the  genealogy  of  his  forefathers.  His  was  a  large 
family,  and  when  he  searched  the  old  church  records 
at  Nordal,  at  Christiania,  and  at  a  number  of  other 
places  he  found  that  the  family  was  an  old  and 
prominent  one,  reaching  back  to  the  ancient  Norse 
men.  He  derived  a  peculiar  satisfaction  in  this 
work,  and  he  extended  his  researches  until  he  had 
a  large  list  of  names  on  his  mother's  side  as  well  as 
on  his  father's.  "Among  these  there  are  many  noble 
and  true,"  thought  Henrik.  "Many  will  receive  the 
gospel  in  the  spirit  world,  and  all  will  have  the  op 
portunity.  I  shall  have  the  necessary  earthly  work 
done  for  them.  If  my  labors  for  the  living  will  not 
avail,  my  dead  ancestors  shall  have  their  chance. 
Who  knows  but  even  now  the  gospel  is  being  preach 
ed  to  them,  and  many  of  them  are  looking  eagerly 
for  someone  to  do  their  work  for  them."  The 
thought  filled  him  with  enthusiasm. 

The  following  spring  Selma  married,  which 
left  Henrik  quite  alone.  He  met  Marie  at  the  wed 
ding  festivities.  She  was  silent  and  quiet.  He  made 
no  strong  efforts  to  win  her  back  to  him,  so  they 


122  ADDED  UPON 

drifted  apart  again.  Then  Henrik  arranged  his  af 
fairs  so  that  he  could  remain  away  for  some  months. 
He  said  he  was  going  to  America  to  visit  his  uncles 
in  Minnesota, — and  yes,  very  likely  he  would  go 
farther  west.  His  friends  shook  their  heads  misgiv- 
ingly,  but  he  only  smiled  at  their  fears. 

Henrik  sailed  from  Christiania  in  company  with 
a  party  of  his  fellow-believers,  and  in  due  unevent 
ful  time,  landed  in  the  New  World.  He  found  Amer 
ica  a  wonderfully  big  and  interesting  country.  He 
went  directly  westward  first,  crossing  the  great 
plains  and  rugged  mountains  to  the  valleys  beyond. 
Here  he  found  and  visited  many  of  his  former 
friends.  He  lived  with  the  Latter-day  Saints  in 
their  homes,  and  learned  to  know  their  true  char 
acter  and  worth. 

Then  he  saw  the  temples  in  which  the  Saints 
were  doing  a  saving  work  both  for  the  living  and 
the  dead.  While  in  conversation  with  some  of  the 
temple  workers,  he  told  them  of  what  he  had  in  the 
way  of  genealogy,  which  they  commended  highly, 
telling  him  that  he  had  an  opportunity  to  do  much 
good  for  his  family. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  replied  he, 
"for  you  know,  this  work  for  the  dead  was  what 
first  impressed  me  in  the  gospel.  It  came  to  me  nat 
urally,  it  seems,  for  I  had  no  trouble  in  accept 
ing  it." 

Henrik  learned  much  regarding  the  manner  of 
procedure  in  this  temple  work.  He  could  do  the 
work  for  the  male  members  of  his  family,  but  a 


ADDED  UPON  123 

woman  must  officiate  for  the  female  members.  This 
was  the  true  order,  he  found. 

"Your  sister  or  your  wife  or  any  other  near 
relative  would  be  the  person  to  help  you  in  this," 
said  his  informant. 

Henrik  shook  his  head.  "I  am  the  only  member 
of  the  family  that  has  received  the  gospel,"  he  re 
plied. 

"Then,  of  course,  any  other  sister  in  the  faith 
will  do;  but  the  blessings  for  doing  this  work  be 
longs  to  the  nearest  kin,  if  they  will  receive  it.  Have 
you  no  relatives  in  America?" 

"Yes;  a  lot  of  them  are  up  in  Minnesota,  but 
none  that  I  know  are  Latter-day  Saints — but  I'll  go 
and  find  out,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought. 

And  that  is  what  Henrik  did.  Within  a  month 
he  was  on  his  way.  He  found  his  Uncle  Ole  living 
not  far  from  St.  Paul.  He  was  a  prosperous  farmer 
with  a  family  of  grown-up  sons  and  daughters  who 
were  pleased  to  see  their  kinsman  from  the  home 
land.  All  the  news  from  all  the  family  had  to  be  told 
from  both  sides.  Henrik  was  shown  the  big  farm 
with  its  up-to-date  American  machinery  and  meth 
ods.  He  was  driven  behind  blooded  horses  to  the 
city  and  there  introduced  to  many  people.  They 
knew  that  Henrik  was  a  person  of  some  importance 
back  in  Norway,  and  they  wanted  to  show  him  that 
they  also  were  "somebody."  That  seemed  to  be  the 
principle  upon  which  they  lived.  The  father  and 
mother  still  belonged  to  the  Lutheran  church.  The 
three  daughters  had  joined  a  Methodist  congregation 


124  ADDED  UPON 

because  their  "set"  was  there.  The  two  boys  at 
tended  no  church. 

Henrik  was  disappointed.  He  saw  plainly  that 
here  was  no  help  for  him.  All  these  were  entrapped 
by  the  world.  At  first,  Henrik  said  nothing  about 
his  own  religious  faith,  but  after  a  time  he  spoke  of 
the  subject  to  one  of  his  girl  cousins.  She  was  not 
the  least  interested.  He  tried  another  with  the 
same  result.  Then,  one  day  at  the  table,  he  told 
them  all  plainly  what  he  believed  and  what  he  was 
called.  They  were  merely  surprised.  "That's  all 
right,"  said  his  cousin  Jack  who  voiced  the  universal 
opinion,  "we  live  in  a  free  country,  you  know,  where 
one's  religion  isn't  called  into  question." 

Henrik's  other  uncle  lived  in  the  city.  He  was 
a  mechanic,  having  worked  for  years  in  the  railroad 
shops.  Some  months  previous  he  had  been  dis 
charged,  and  since  then  he  had  operated  a  small 
"tinker"  shop  of  his  own.  Uncle  Jens  lived  in  a 
small  rented  house.  Uncle  Ole's  visits  to  his  brother 
were  far  between.  "Brother  Jens  is  shiftless," 
Uncle  Ole  said. 

Henrik  was,  however,  made  welcome  in  the 
humble  home,  and  he  soon  found  the  family  a  most 
interesting  one.  His  uncle  was  a  religious  man, 
having,  as  he  put  it,  "got  religion"  some  years  ago 
at  a  Baptist  revival.  He  had  joined  that  church 
and  was  an  active  member  in  it.  The  wife  and  some 
of  the  children  were  devout  believers.  They  in 
dulged  in  long  family  prayers  and  much  scriptural 
reading.  This  branch  of  the  Bogstad  family  called 
the  wealthy  farmer  and  his  children  a  "godless  lot." 


ADDED  UPON  125 

Uncle  Jens'  oldest  daughter,  one  about  Henrik's 
own  age,  did  not  live  at  home,  therefore  he  did  not 
see  her.  He  was  getting  well  acquainted  with  the 
others,  but  Rachel  he  did  not  know. 

"I  must  meet  Rachel,  too,"  he  said  one  day  to 
his  uncle.  "Where  can  I  find  her?" 

"She  works  in  a  down-town  department  store; 
at  night  she  stays  with  some  friends  of  hers.  The 
fact  is  that  Rachel  is  peculiar.  She  is  not  one  with 
us.  She  has  been  led  astray — " 

"Oh!"  cried  Henrik. 

"She  is  not  a  bad  girl — no,  no;  but  she  has  been 
led  away  into  a  false  religion,  and  as  she  will  talk 
and  argue  with  us  all,  I  thought  it  best  that  she  stay 
away  from  our  home  until  she  comes  to  her  senses; 
but—" 

"What  is  this  religion  that  has  caused  her  to  err 
so  badly?" 

"Why,   she  calls  herself  a  Latter-day  Saint." 

"What!" 

"Yes;  I've  tried  to  reason  with  the  girl,  but  it's 
been  no  use." 

"I  want  to  see  her — now,  today,"  said  Henrik. 
"Give  me  her  address." 

"Shall  I  go  with  you?" 

"No,  I  can  find  her, — you  need  not  bother." 

Henrik  obtained  the  proper  directions,  and  set 
out  immediately.  Was  there  then  one  other  of  his 
family  that  had  received  the  gospel — one  that  could 
help  him?  He  boarded  a  car,  getting  off  at  the  store. 
Going  to  the  department  in  which  she  worked,  he 
asked  the  floor-walker  where  he  could  find  Miss  Bog- 


126  ADDED  UPON 

stad.  Then  he  saw  her  behind  a  counter,  resting  for 
a  moment,  unoccupied.  Though  she  was  an  American, 
Henrik  could  see  the  Norwegian  traits  in  his  fair 
cousin.  She  was  of  the  dark  type,  with  round,  rosy 
lips  and  cheeks,  and  heavy,  brown  hair. 

"I  am  your  cousin  Henrik  from  Norway,"  he 
said  as  he  shook  her  hand. 

Her  smile  burst  into  a  soft,  merry  laugh  as  she 
greeted  him.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said.  "I 
heard  you  were  here,  but  thought  perhaps  I  might 
not  get  to  meet  you." 

He  held  her  hand  a  long  time,  as  he  looked  into 
the  pretty,  sweet  face.  Had  he  been  an  American, 
he  would,  no  doubt,  have  kissed  her  then  and  there; 
but  being  a  Norwegian,  he  only  looked  his  wonder 
and  pleasure. 

They  could  not  talk  much  because  customers 
had  to  be  served;  but  Henrik  lingered  until  closing 
time,  saying  he  would  walk  home  with  her  that  they 
might  talk.  She  expressed  her  pleasure  at  the  prop 
osition;  and  promptly  at  the  closing  gong,  she  don 
ned  her  wraps  and  joined  him.  The  day  was  warm, 
and  he  suggested  a  walk  around  by  the  park,  where 
they  might  sit  down  on  a  bench  under  the  trees. 

It  was  a  difficult  matter  for  seriously  minded 
Uncle  Jens  and  his  family  to  laugh,  and  even  a  smile 
was  seldom  seen  on  their  faces;  but  here  was  one 
who  seemed  bubbling  over  with  merriment — one 
whose  countenance  shone  as  if  from  an  inner  light 
of  happiness. 

"Rachel,"  said  Henrik,  "your  father  has  told 
me  about  you." 


ADDED  UPON  127 

"Yes,"  she  replied  with  sobering  face,  "they 
think  I  am  a  very  bad  girl, — but — " 

"Look  here  cousin,  don't  make  any  apologies. 
I  know,  and  understand." 

He  asked  her  some  questions  about  herself,  all 
of  which  she  answered  frankly.  Then  he  told  her 
about  himself,  which  she  first  met  with  an  aston 
ished  stare.  He  narrated  his  experiences  in  Nor 
way,  of  his  trip  westward,  and  the  real  purpose  of 
his  coming  to  Minnesota.  She  heard  his  story  with 
alternating  smiles  and  tears,  as  it  touched  her  heart. 
They  sat  thus  for  a  long  time,  oblivious  to  the  sing 
ing  birds  above,  of  the  curious  passers-by,  or  the 
fast  falling  night.  They  walked  home  in  the  lighted 
streets,  and  it  was  late  when  he  bade  her  goodnight 
at  the  gate. 

The  next  day  Henrik  had  a  talk  with  Uncle 
Jens  which  ended  in  the  uncle's  closing  with  a  bang 
the  open  Bible  on  the  table  out  of  which  they  had 
been  reading,  and  then  in  uncontrolled  rage  order 
ing  his  nephew  out  of  the  house.  Henrik  tried  to 
make  peace  with  his  uncle,  but  it  proved  useless,  so 
he  took  his  hat  and  left. 

Henrik  met  Rachel  again  that  evening,  and 
again  they  sat  on  the  bench  under  the  trees.  Once 
again  they  became  lost  to  all  outward  disturbances 
in  the  deep  concerns  which  brooded  in  their  hearts 
and  found  utterance  in  their  speech. 

"I  shall  remain  here  a  few  days  more,"  said  he 
in  conclusion,  "because  I  want  to  get  better  ac 
quainted  with  you;  and  then  we  must  talk  over  our 
plans  further.  Then  I  shall  go  back  to  Norway.  In 


128  ADDED  UPON 

a  few  months  I  shall  come  back,  and  we  two  shall 
go  westward  where  the  Temples  are,  and  there  be 
gin  the  work  that  is  ours — the  work  that  the  Lord 
has  called  us  to  do.  What  do  you  say  to  that?" 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied  simply,  and  with  her 
usual  smile;  "I  shall  be  ready." 

XIV. 

"Rend  your  heart  and  not  your  garments,  and  turn  unto 
the  Lord  your  God:  for  he  is  gracious  and  merciful,  slow  to 
anger,  and  of  great  kindness." — Joel  f,:13. 

On  Henrik's  arrival  in  Norway,  the  harvesting 
was  in  full  swing,  and  he  busied  himself  with  that. 
His  friends,  some  of  whom  were  surprised  at  his  re 
turn,  asked  him  what  he  had  found  in  America,  and 
he  told  them  freely.  Had  he  discovered  the  delusion 
in  his  American  religion?  No,  he  replied,  his  faith 
had  been  made  stronger.  Selma  had  relented  some 
what,  she  making  him  welcome  at  her  home  in 
Christiania.  Here  he  also  met  Marie.  Henrik 
treated  her  as  a  friend  with  whom  he  had  never  had 
differences.  When  she  saw  him  back  again,  browned 
and  hardy,  but  the  same  gentle  Henrik,  Marie  won 
dered,  and  by  that  wonder  her  resentment  was  mod 
ified,  and  she  listened  to  his  accounts  of  America 
and  his  relatives  in  Minnesota  with  much  interest. 
As  he  spoke  with  an  added  enthusiasm  of  his  cousin 
Rachel,  the  listeners  opened  their  ears  and  eyes.  He 
told  them  freely  of  his  plans,  and  what  he  and 
Rachel  were  going  to  do. 


ADDED  UPON  129 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  can  see  the  hand  of  the  Lord 
in  my  finding  Rachel." — Marie  had  her  doubts,  but 
she  said  nothing. — "It  is  all  so  wonderful  to  me,  and 
I  am  only  sorry  that  you  folks  can't  see  it!"  But 
they  replied  nothing. 

Henrik  wrote  often  to  Rachel,  and  the  letters 
which  he  received  in  reply  he  usually  handed  to  Sel- 
ma,  and  Marie,  if  she  was  present.  They  pro 
nounced  them  fine  letters.  "She  must  be  a  jolly 
girl,"  they  said. 

"She  is,"  he  affirmed;  "the  most  religious  and 
yet  the  merriest  girl  I  have  ever  met.  That  seems 
a  contradiction,  but  it  isn't."  Then  he  went  on  ex 
plaining,  and  they  could  not  help  listening.  Henrik 
studied  the  two  young  women  to  see  what  impres 
sion  he  might  be  making.  On  Selma  there  was  very 
little,  but  he  believed  Marie  was  overcoming  some 
of  her  prejudice.  Selma  told  him  that  Marie  loved 
him  as  much  as  ever,  and  that  if  he  deserted  her, 
it  would  break  her  heart. 

"But  Selma,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  have  never  de 
serted  her.  It  was  she  who  broke  the  engagement." 

"How  could  she  do  otherwise; — but  she  has 
been  waiting,  and  will  still  wait  in  hope." 

"I,  too,  shall  do  that,"  he  said. 

That  fall  Henrik  again  sailed  for  America.  Go 
ing  westward  by  way  of  Minnesota,  he  called  for  Ra 
chel  and  took  her  with  him.  In  one  of  the  Temple 
cities  they  found  lodgings  with  some  of  his  friends, 
and  then  they  entered  upon  their  work  for  their  an 
cestors.  Henrik  had  a  long  list  of  them,  and  so  they 


130  ADDED  UPON 

were  kept  busy  nearly  all  the  winter.  At  the  end  of 
three  months,  Henrik  asked  Rachel  if  she  was  tired 
and  wanted  a  rest. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said;  "I  believe  I  can  do  this  work 
all  my  life.  It  isn't  always  easy,  but  there  is  so 
much  joy  and  peace  in  it.  I  believe  the  angels  are 
with  us,  and  I  don't  want  better  company." 

And  so  these  two  were  very  much  contented. 
They  sent  letters  home  telling  of  the  "glorious"  time 
they  were  having,  and  the  work  they  were  doing. 
At  the  opening  of  spring,  Henrik  left  Rachel  to  con 
tinue  the  work,  he  having  to  go  back  to  Norway. 
He  asked  her  if  she  desired  to  return  to  her  folks  in 
Minnesota,  but  she  said  no,  not  yet. 

The  early  spring  months  found  Henrik  in  Chris- 
tiania.  He  made  a  trip  to  Denmark  on  genealogical 
research  which  proved  quite  successful.  The  first 
of  June  found  him  back  to  Nordal. 

Midsummer  Night  came  clear  and  cool.  Henrik 
was  in  Christiania,  and  was  to  be  one  of  a  party  to 
spend  the  night  on  the  hills  above  the  city.  Marie 
was  not  with  them,  and  Henrik  enquired  the  reason. 

"She  is  ill,"  said  Selma. 

"111?    Where  is  she?" 

"At  home.    I  think  you  should  go  and  see  her." 

"Does  she  want  me?" 

"Yes." 

Henrik  excused  himself  from  the  party  and  went 
immediately  to  Marie.  He  found  her  on  the  veranda, 
reclining  on  a  couch.  The  lamp-light  from  an  open 
window  fell  on  a  pale  face,  startling  in  its  changed 
expression.  He  silently  took  her  hand,  her  fingers 


ADDED  UPON  131 

tightening  in  his  grasp.  She  looked  him  steadily  in 
the  face,  her  swimming  eyes  not  wavering.  Then 
Henrik  knew  that  he  loved  this  girl  yet.  For  a  long 
time  he  had  tried  to  forget  her,  tried  to  root  out  his 
love  for  her,  tried  to  think  that  she  was  not  for  him. 
"I'll  not  try  again,"  he  had  thought,  "for  twice  now 
have  I  been  disappointed;"  but  now  a  flood  of  com 
passionate  love  engulfed  him,  and  he,  too,  clung  to 
the  fingers  in  his  grasp. 

"I  am  sorry  to  see  you  like  this,"  he  said,  "what 
is  the  matter?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Doesn't  the  doctor  know?" 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  faint  smile.  "Sit 
down,  Henrik,  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  she  said. 

He  took  the  low  chair  by  her  side.  The  mother 
looked  at  them  from  the  door-way,  but  did  not  come 
out. 

"I  want  you  to  forgive  me,"  she  said 

"That  has  been  done  long  ago." 

"Thank  you — now  listen.  I  have  been  wrong, 
wickedly  wrong,  it  seems  to  me — listen!  I  have  not 
been  honest,  neither  with  you,  nor  myself,  nor  with 
the  Lord — which  is  the  worst  of  all.  I  understood 
much  that  you  taught  me  of  the  restored  gospel — It 
seemed  so  easy  to  my  understanding;  but  my  pride 
was  in  the  way,  and  I  would  not  accept  the  light. 
I  pushed  it  away.  I  kept  saying  to  myself,  'It  isn't 
true,'  when  I  knew  all  the  time  that  it  was.  That's 
the  sin  I  have  committed." 

"My  dear—" 

"You  remember  that  book  you  asked  me  to  read? 


132  ADDED  UPON 

Well,  I  read  it  through,  though  I  led  you  to  believe 
that  I  did  not.  It  is  a  beautiful  book,  and  true,  every 
word.  *  *  *  Perhaps  you  will  not  believe  me 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  been  a  number  of  times 
to  your  meetings  in  Osterhausgade.  Once  when  you 
were  there — I  thought  you  would  see  me,"  she 
smiled.  "And  I  could  find  no  faults,  though  at  first 
I  went  looking  for  them  *  *  *  Now,  I've  told  you. 
You  have  forgiven  me,  you  say;  but  will  the  Lord?" 

"Yes;  the  Lord  is  good." 

"When  I  get  better — if  I  do — I  am  going  to  join 
the  Church  as  you  have  done.  That  is  the  right 
thing  to  do,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"And  then,  may  I  go  to  where  you  and  your 
cousin  Rachel  are  working  for  the  dead?  When — 
when  are  you  to  be  married?" 

"Married?     To  whom?" 

"Why,  to  your  cousin  Rachel.  Are  you  not  go 
ing  to  marry  her?" 

"Certainly  not — never  thought  of  it  for  a  mo 
ment." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  must  have  made  another  mistake. 
Forgive  me."  She  lay  back  on  her  cushions. 

"Marie,  when  I  get  married,  it's  you  I  want  for 
my  wife.  I  have  told  you  that  before,  and  I  haven't 
changed  my  mind.  You  shall  be  mine,  if  you  will 
come  back  to  the  sweet  days  of  long  ago.  Will  you?" 

He  leaned  over  the  couch,  and  she  drew  his  face 
to  hers.  "Yes,"  she  whispered. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour's  conversation  wherein 
much  had  been  said,  Marie  asked:  "May  I  go  with 


ADDED  UPON  133 

you  to  the  temple  and  there  help  you  in  the  work  you 
are  doing?  I  believe  I  could  help  a  little." 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  curtain  lifted 
from  the  eyes  of  the  mortal,  and  Henrik  saw  for  an 
instant  into  the  pre-existent  world.  A  group  of  spir 
itual  beings  was  eagerly  engaged  in  conversation, 
and  from  out  that  group  he  heard  the  voice  of  one 
answering  Marie's  question. 

"Yes;  I  think  so;  but  we  shall  see." 


XV. 

"A  friend  of  mine  in  his  journey  is  come  to  me."— Luke  11 :6. 

The  next  time  Henrik  went  to  the  valleys  of  the 
mountains  in  western  America,  Marie  accompanied 
him.  They  were  married  in  the  Temple,  made  man 
and  wife  for  time  and  eternity  by  the  authority  of 
the  Priesthood.  That  event  was  among  their  su 
premely  happy  ones.  Rachel  witnessed  the  cere 
mony,  and  the  smile  on  her  face  was  sweeter  than 
ever. 

After  that,  Marie  helped  in  the  temple  work  as 
she  had  desired.  The  three  then  labored  together 
until  Henrik's  list  of  names  was  nearly  exhausted 
After  a  very  pleasant  visit  among  friends,  Henrik 
and  Marie  went  back  to  Norway  and  to  Nordal. 
They  made  a  new  home  from  the  ancient  one  on  the 
hillside  by  the  forest,  and  for  them  the  years  went 
by  in  peace  and  plenty.  Sons  and  daughters  came 
to  them,  to  whom  they  taught  the  gospel.  In  time 


134  ADDED  UPON 

many  of  his  kin  also  believed  the  truth  and  accepted 
it,  and  thus  the  seed  that  was  sown  in  humility,  and 
at  first  brought  but  small  returns,  gave  promise  of 
a  bounteous  harvest. 

Once  every  four  or  five  years,  Henrik  and  Ma 
rie  visited  the  Saints  in  the  West,  and  spent  some 
time  in  the  temple.  These  were  happy  times  for 
Rachel;  who  continued  to  live  alone,  not  making 
many  intimate  acquaintances.  Henrik  was  glad  to 
provide  for  her  simple  necessities,  so  that  she  could 
continue  her  life's  work  in  behalf  of  the  dead. 

Rachel  did  not  marry.  Once  in  Minnesota,  a 
young  man  had  made  love  to  her,  but  she  could  not 
return  that  love,  so  she  was  in  duty  bound  not  to 
encourage  him.  Rachel  was  hard  to  get  acquainted 
with,  a  number  of  young  men  had  said.  She  was 
always  happy  and  smiling,  and  yet  a  closer  knowl 
edge  of  her  character  disclosed  a  serious  strain  that 
puzzled  her  admirers — for  Rachel  had  admirers.  A 
number  of  times  good  men  had  been  about  to  make 
love  to  her  in  earnest,  but  each  time  some  strange 
feeling  had  checked  them.  The  young  woman  was 
"willing"  enough  but  what  could  she  do?  There 
was  without  doubt  a  "man"  for  her,  but  she  could 
not  go  in  search  of  him.  As  the  years  went  by,  and 
with  them  her  youth  and  somewhat  of  her  beauty, 
she  was  often  sad,  and  sometimes  heart-hungry;  and 
at  such  times  she  found  no  peace  until  she  had 
poured  out  her  heart  to  her  heavenly  Father,  and 
said,  "Thy  will  be  done — but  make  me  satisfied." 

After  an  absence  of  three  years  Rachel  visited 
her  home  in  Minnesota.  She  was  received  kindly, 


ADDED  UPON  135 

the  parents  being  no  doubt  grateful  that  she  had  es 
caped  alive  from  the  clutches  of  those  "terrible 
people"  whom  she  had  been  among.  She  could  still 
smile  and  be  happy,  be  more  patient  than  ever,  tak 
ing  in  good  part  the  ridicule  and  sometimes  the 
abuse  directed  toward  her.  She  talked  on  the  gospel 
with  those  who  would  listen,  and  after  a  time  she 
found  that  she  was  making  a  little  headway.  Her 
father,  at  the  first,  told  her  emphatically  that  she 
was  not  to  "preach  her  religion"  in  his  house;  but 
he  would  sometimes  forget  himself  and  ask  her  a 
question,  which  in  being  answered  would  lead  to  a 
gospel  discourse.  Then,  awakening  to  what  was 
going  on,  he  would  say,  "That  will  do.  I  thought  I 
told  you  that  we  wanted  none  of  your  preaching," 
at  which  Rachel  would  smilingly  look  around  to  the 
others  who  were  also  smiling  at  the  father's  incon 
sistencies. 

During  this  visit  the  good  seed  was  planted, 
from  which  in  due  time  the  Lord  gave  an  abundant 
harvest  from  among  the  Bogstad  family  and  its 
many  ramifications. 

One  day  in  the  temple  Rachel  met  Signe  Dahl 
A.mes.  It  was  Rachel's  custom  to  keep  a  lookout  for 
sisters  who  were  new  to  the  work  that  she  might 
assist  them.  Signe  had  not  been  in  the  Temple 
since  the  day  she  was  married,  and  now  she  had 
come  to  do  some  work  for  her  family.  Rachel  met 
her  in  the  outer  room  with  a  pleasant  greeting. 

"I  am  Sister  Bogstad,"  she  said;  "and  what  is 
your  name?" 


136  ADDED  UPON 

"Bogstad,  did  you  say — why — why,  my  name  is 
Ames." 

"Yes,  Bogstad,"  replied  Rachel,  noticing  the 
sister's  surprise.  "We  haven't  met  before,  have  we?" 

"No;  I  think  not.  The  name  is  not  common, 
and  I  used  to  know  a  gentleman  by  that  name — 
that's  all." 

"You're  a  Norwegian,"  said  Rachel. 

"Yes." 

"So  am  I;  though  I  was  born  in  this  country,  it 
may  be  possible  that  I  belong  to  the  family  which 
you  know." 

"I  used  to  know  Henrik  Bogstad  of  Nordal, 
Norway." 

"That's  my  cousin.  We  have  been  doing  work 
here  in  the  temple." 

Signe  was  greatly  surprised,  and  Rachel  led  her 
to  a  corner  where  they  talked  freely  for  some  time. 
During  the  day  they  found  occasion  to  continue  their 
conversation,  and  that  evening  Signe  went  home 
with  her  new-found  friend. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  beautiful  friend 
ship.  Rachel  knew  enough  of  Henrik's  little  ro 
mance  with  Signe  to  make  the  acquaintanceship 
unusually  interesting;  besides,  there  came  to  be  a 
strong  affinity  between  the  two.  Rachel  accom 
panied  her  friend  to  Dry  Bench,  and  there  soon 
became  "Aunt  Rachel"  to  Signe's  four  beautiful 
children.  Then  she  wrote  to  Henrik,  telling  him  of 
her  wonderful  "find."  He  replied  that  at  their  next 
visit  to  America,  they  would  surely  give  Dry  Bench 
a  call. 


ADDED  UPON  137 

Henrik,  Marie,  and  two  of  the  older  children 
came  that  fall  when  the  peaches  were  ripe  and  the 
alfalfa  fields  were  being  cut.  And  such  delicious 
peaches,  and  such  stacks  of  fragrant  hay  they  found! 
Amid  the  beautiful  setting  of  the  harvest  time,  their 
several  stories  were  told,  in  wonder  at  the  diverg 
ing  and  the  meeting  of  the  great  streams  of  Life. 
The  Bogstad  children  practiced  their  book-learned 
English,  while  the  Ames  children  were  willing  teach 
ers.  The  boys  bathed  in  the  irrigation  canal,  rode 
on  the  loads  of  hay,  and  gorged  themselves  with 
peaches.  The  girls  played  house  under  the  trees. 
And  were  it  part  of  this  story,  it  might  be  here  told 
how  that,  later,  Arnt  Bogstad  and  Margaret  Ames 
loved  and  mated — but  it  is  not. 

Henrik  and  Marie  lived  happily  together  for 
twelve  years,  and  then  Marie  was  called  into  the 
spirit  world.  Henrik  was  left  with  five  children, 
the  youngest  but  a  few  months  old.  With  ample 
means,  he  could  obtain  plenty  of  household  help,  but 
money  could  not  buy  a  mother  for  his  children.  A 
number  of  years  went  by,  bringing  to  Henrik  new 
and  varied  experiences.  Then  on  one  of  his  visits 
to  the  West  he  found  another  helpmate  for  himself 
and  children — a  kind-hearted,  sweet-souled  young 
woman,  born  of  Danish  parents,  and  reared  among 
the  Saints  in  the  valleys  of  the  mountains.  Then 
the  westward  call  became  so  strong  that  Henrik  dis 
posed  of  most  of  his  interests  in  Norway  and  moved 
with  his  family  to  America,  taking  up  his  abode  in 
a  town  not  far  from  Dry  Bench.  Here  they  enjoyed 
the  association  of  the  Saints,  and  his  children  had 


138  ADDED  UPON 

the  advantage  of  companionship  of  children  of  the 
faith. 

Time,  and  the  world  with  it,  sped  on.  Peace 
and  prosperity  came  to  the  people  of  this  story.  As 
years  were  added  to  years,  their  good  works  in 
creased,  until  the  Lord  said  to  each  of  them,  Enough. 
Then  in  their  own  time  and  place,  they  passed  into 
the  Paradise  of  God. 


PART  THIRD 


Ye  worlds  of  light  and  life,  beyond  our  sphere; 

Mysterious  country!   Let  your  light  appear. 

Ye  angels,  lift  the  veil,  the  truth  unfold, 

And  give  our  seers  a  glimpse  of  that  bright  world; 

Tell  where  ye  live,  and  what  is  your  employ, 

Your  present  blessing,  and  your  future  joy. 

Say,  have  you  learned  the  name,  and  tuned  the  lyre, 

And  hymn'd  the  praise  of  Him — the  great  Messiah? 

Have  love's  emotions  kindled  in  your  breast, 

And  hope,  enraptured,  seized  the  promised  rest? 

Or  wait  ye  still  the  resurrection  day, 

That  higher  promise  of  Millenial  sway? 

When  Saints  and  angels  come  to  earth  again, 

And  in  the  flesh  with  King  Messiah  reign? 

The  spirits  answered  as  they  soared  away — 

"We're  happy  now,  but  wait  a  greater  day, 

When  sin  and  death,  and  hell,  shall  conquered  be, 

And  earth,  with  heaven  enjoy  the  victory." 

—Parley  P.  Pratt. 


I. 


"They  shall  be  gathered  together  as  prisoners  are  gathered 
in  the  pit,  and  shall  be  shut  up  in  prison,  and  after  many  days 
shall  they  be  visited." — Isaiah  24:22. 

The  Lord  God  created  all  things  "spiritually 
before  they  were  naturally  upon  the  earth."  He 
created  "every  plant  of  the  field  before  it  was  in  the 
earth,  every  herb  of  the  field  before  it  grew."  Be 
fore  this  "natural"  creation  "there  was  not  yet  flesh 
upon  the  earth,  neither  in  the  water,  neither  in  the 

air; but  spiritually  were  they  created  and 

made  according"  to  the  word  of  God.  In  this  sec 
ond  or  "natural"  creation  all  things  were  clothed 
upon  by  earthly  element,  or  in  other  words,  the 
spiritual  was  materialized  so  that  it  became  dis 
cernible  to  the  natural  senses.  The  spiritual  and 
the  natural  are,  therefore,  but  different  states  of 
the  same  forms  of  life.  In  the  natural  world  there 
are  men,  women,  beasts  of  the  field,  fowls  of  the  air, 
and  vegetation  in  boundless  and  varied  forms.  These 
exist  before  the  natural  is  added  upon  them;  they 
exist  after  the  natural  is  laid  down  by  the  death  of 
the  body. 

In  like  manner  we  find  in  the  spirit  world  men, 
women,  beasts  of  the  field,  fowls  of  the  air,  and  veg 
etation  in  boundless  and  varied  forms.  These  things 


142  ADDED  UPON 

are  as  natural  there  as  they  are  in  earth-life.  They 
appeal  to  spirit  nature  the  same  as  the  "natural" 
prototype  appeals  to  the  mortal  senses;  and  this  is 
why  we  may  speak  of  our  earth-known  friends  who 
are  in  the  spirit  world  and  of  their  surroundings  in 
the  manner  of  mortality. 

And  what  a  big  world  it  is!  Here  are  nations, 
tribes,  races,  and  families  much  larger  than  in  earth- 
life,  and  just  as  varied  in  all  that  made  them  dif 
ferent  in  mortality.  Here,  as  in  all  of  God's  crea 
tions,  like  assemble,  dislike  keep  apart;  "for  intelli 
gence  cleaveth  unto  intelligence;  wisdom  receiveth 
wisdom;  truth  embraceth  truth;  virtue  loveth  vir 
tue;  light  cleaveth  unto  light;  mercy  hath  compas 
sion  on  mercy,  and  claimeth  her  own."  The  right 
eous  in  Paradise  have  no  desire  to  mingle  with  the 
wicked  in  the  regions  of  darkness;  therefore  they 
go  there  only  as  they  may  be  called  to  perform  some 
duty. 

To  the  industrious  there  can  be  no  true  pleas 
ure  or  rest  in  idleness;  therefore,  Paradise  furnishes 
employment  to  all  its  inhabitants.  A  world  of  knowl 
edge  is  open  to  them  into  which  they  may  extend 
their  researches.  Thus  they  may  continue  in  the 
ever-widening  field  of  learning,  finding  enough  to 
occupy  their  time  and  talents. 

An  arrival  in  the  spirit  world  brings  with  him 
just  what  he  is  when  he  leaves  mortality.  The  sep 
aration  of  the  spiritual  part  of  the  soul  from  the 
earthly  body  does  not  essentially  change  that  spirit. 
A  person  takes  with  him  the  sum  total  of  the  char 
acter  he  has  formed  up  to  that  time.  Mortal  death 


ADDED  UPON  143 

does  not  make  a  person  better  or  worse;  it  simply 
adds  to  him  one  more  experience  which,  no  doubt, 
has  a  teachable  influence  on  him.  At  death,  no  per 
son  is  perfect,  even  though  he  is  a  Saint,  and  passes 
into  the  Paradise  of  God.  There  he  must  continue 
the  process  of  eliminating  the  weaknesses  which  he 
did  not  wholly  overcome  in  earth-life.  Death  will 
not  destroy  the  tendency  to  tell  untruths,  or  change 
the  ungovernable  temper  to  one  which  is  under  per 
fect  control.  Such  transformations  are  not  of  in 
stant  attainment,  but  are  the  result  of  long,  patient 
endeavor. 

As  there  are  gradations  of  righteousness  and 
intelligences  in  the  spirit  world,  there  must  be  a 
vast  field  of  usefulness  for  preaching  the  gospel, 
training  the  ignorant,  and  helping  the  weak.  As  in 
the  world  of  mortality,  this  work  is  carried  on  by 
those  who  have  accepted  the  gospel  and  who  have 
conformed  their  lives  to  its  principles;  so  in  the 
spirit  world,  the  righteous  find  pleasant  and  profit 
able  employment  in  working  for  the  salvation  of 
souls. 

And  as  they  work  they  must  needs  talk  of  the 
glories  of  the  great  plan  of  salvation,  made  perfect 
through  the  atonement  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  That 
which  they  look  forward  to  most  keenly,  that  about 
which  they  talk  and  sing  most  fervently  is  the 
time  when  they  also  shall  follow  their  Savior 
through  the  door  of  the  resurrection  which  He  has 
opened  for  them, — when  their  souls  shall  be  per 
fectly  redeemed,  and  they  shall  be  clothed  upon  with 
a  body  of  the  heavenly  order,  a  tabernacle  incor- 

10 


144  ADDED  UPON 

ruptible  and  immortal  with  which  to  go  on  into  the 
celestial  world. 

Though  the  future  is  most  glorious  to  these 
people,  the  past  is  also  bright.  The  hopes  of  the 
future  are  well  grounded  on  the  facts  of  the  past. 
An  ever-present  theme  is  that  of  Christ's  first  visit 
to  the  spirit  world,  when,  having  died  on  the  cross, 
He  brought  life  and  light  and  immortality  to  the 
world  of  spirits,  entering  even  into  the  prison  house 
where  the  disobedient  had  lain  for  a  long  time,  and 
preached  the  gospel  to  them. 

And  among  these  who  gloried  both  in  the  past 
and  in  the  future  were  Rupert  and  Henrik.  Often 
they  conversed  on  themes  near  to  their  hearts: 

"It  must  have  been  a  place  of  darkness?  of  sad 
despairing  hearts,  that  prison  house,  before  Christ's 
visit  to  it,"  said  Rupert.  "There,  as  in  a  pit,  dwelt 
those  who  in  earth-life  had  rejected  the  truth,  and 
who,  sinking  low  in  the  vices  of  the  world,  permitted 
themselves  to  be  led  captive  by  the  power  of  the 
evil  one.  Noah  in  his  day  preached  to  them,  but 
they  laughed  him  to  scorn  and  continued  in  their 
evil  ways.  Others  of  the  prophets  in  their  genera 
tions  had  warned  them,  but  without  avail;  so  here 
were  found  Satan's  harvest  from  the  fruitful  fields 
of  the  earth." 

"I  can  well  imagine  that  long,  long,  night  of 
darkness,"  added  Henrik.  "No  ray  of  hope  pierced 
the  gloom  of  their  abode.  The  prison  walls  loomed 
around  and  above  them,  shutting  out  any  glimpse 
of  heaven.  These  had  rejected  the  truth,  which 
alone  can  make  men  free.  They  themselves  had 


ADDED  UPON  145 

shut  out  the  light  when  it  would  have  shone  in  upon 
their  vision.  They  had  chosen  the  evil,  and  the  evil 
was  claiming  its  own.  Outside  the  prison  were  their 
fellows  who  had  chosen  to  do  the  right,  basking  in 
the  light  of  a  clear  conscience,  enjoying  the  approval 
of  the  Lord.  These  faithful  ones  were  going  on  to 
eternal  perfection.  How  long  would  it  take  the 
prisoners,  if  they  ever  were  released,  to  overtake 
those  ahead?  Between  these  was  a  great  gulf  fixed, 
which,  in  the  ordinary  order  of  things,  could  never 
be  lessened  or  bridged." 

"But  at  last  the  time  of  mercy  and  deliverance 
came.  I  remember  how  the  events  of  the  time  have 
been  described  to  me.  Just  before  the  coming  of 
the  Lord,  a  peculiar,  indescribable  tremor  ran 
through  this  spirit  world  as  if  one  pulse  beat  through 
the  universe  and  that  pulse  had  been  disturbed. 
The  spirits  in  prison  looked  in  awe  at  one  another, 
many  crouching  in  terror,  fearful  that  the  day  of 
judgment  had  come.  The  vast  multitude  of  the 
ignorant  wondered  what  the  'peculiar  feeling' 
could  mean.  The  righteous,  who  had  been  looking 
wistfully  for  some  manifestation  of  the  coming  of  the 
Lord,  whispered  to  each  other,  'The  Lord  is  dying 
for  the  sins  of  the  world!' 

"Yes;  the  prophets  of  every  dispensation  had 
labored  faithfully  to  prepare  the  world  of  spirits 
among  whom  they  lived  for  the  coming  of  the  Lord 
and  Savior.  There  were  Adam,  Noah,  Abraham, 
with  those  who  followed  them;  there  were  Lehi, 
Nephi,  Mosiah,  and  the  others  of  their  race;  there 
were  the  prophets  who  had  lived  among  the  lost 


146  ADDED   UPON 

Ten  tribes;  these  had  all  been  valiant  in  earth-life, 
and  were  faithful  yet  in  the  spirit  world.  The  bur 
den  of  their  message  in  mortality  had  been  the  com 
ing  of  Christ  the  Redeemer,  and  now  they  still 
looked  forward  with  the  eye  of  faith  to  Him  who 
should  die  for  the  sins  of  the  world,  and  who  should 
deliver  them  from  the  bondage  of  the  grave.  They 
understood  that  the  body  of  flesh  which  had  been 
given  them  in  mortality  was  necessary  for  their 
full  salvation.  Christ  would  bring  to  pass  the  res 
urrection,  so  that  bodies  would  be  restored  to  them, 
not  corruptible  as  before,  but  perfected,  immortal 
and  glorious,  a  fit  tabernacle  for  the  immortal  spirit 
with  which  to  go  on  into  the  eternal  mansions  of 
the  Father." 

"But  oh,  that  time,  brother,  when  the  Son  of 
God  was  dying  on  the  cross!  While  the  earth  was 
shrouded  in  darkness,  and  the  bulk  of  it  trembled 
in  sympathy  with  the  death  throes  of  its  Maker, 
the  spirit  world  also  received  the  imprint  of  the  ter 
rible  event  on  Calvary  as  for  a  moment  the  whole 
spiritual  creation  lay  in  tense  expectancy.  The  usual 
occupations  were  suspended.  Speech  became  low 
and  constrained.  Songs  ended  abruptly,  and  laugh 
ter  ceased.  There  were  no  audible  sobs,  neither 
sighing.  Bird  and  beast  were  stilled,  as  if  the  end 
had  come,  and  nothing  more  mattered.  Then,  in  a 
little  while,  the  tenseness  relaxed,  and  everything 
went  on  as  before,  though  much  subdued.  The 
righteous  in  the  Paradise  of  God  quietly  gathered 
themselves  together  in  their  usual  places  of  wor 
ship.  They  clasped  each  other's  hands,  and  looked 


ADDED  UPON  147 

with   trembling   gladness   into   each   other's  faces. 
There  was  no  fear  here:  they  were  ready." 

"And  then  His  actual  coming!  That  which  had 
been  fore-ordained  from  before  the  foundation  of 
the  world  was  about  to  be  fulfilled;  that  which  had 
been  the  theme  of  the  prophets  from  the  beginning 
was  at  the  door;  that  which  the  seers  of  all  times 
and  nations  had  beheld  in  vision  was  now  to  be 
realized;  that  about  which  poets  had  sung;  that  for 
which  every  pure  heart  had  yearned;  that  for  which 
the  ages  had  waited,  was  now  here!  A  feeling  of 
sweet  peace  filled  the  righteous,  which  expressed  it 
self  in  songs  of  praise  and  gladness.  Thus  they 
watched  and  waited." 

"Then  Jesus  stood  in  their  midst,  and  they  be 
held  the  glorious  presence  of  their  Lord.  Then  there 
came  to  their  hearts  a  small,  sweet,  penetrating 
voice,  testifying  that  this  was  Jesus  Christ  the  Son 
of  God  who  had  glorified  the  name  of  the  Father; 
who  was  the  life  and  the  light  of  the  world;  who 
had  drunk  of  the  bitter  cup  which  the  Father  had 
given  him;  and  had  glorified  the  Father  in  taking 
upon  Himself  the  sins  of  the  world,  in  which  He 
had  suffered  the  will  of  the  Father  in  all  things  from 
the  beginning.  The  multitude  fell  down  at  his  feet 
and  worshiped." 

"I  have  been  told  that  as  Jesus  entered  the 
prison  of  the  condemned  in  the  spirit  world,  a  mur 
mur  of  greeting  welcomed  Him.  It  was  timid  and 
faint  at  first,  but  it  increased  in  volume  and  force 
until  it  became  a  shout. 


148  ADDED  UPON 

"  'Lift  up  your  heads,  0  ye  gates,  and  be  ye 
lifted  up,  ye  everlasting  doors.'  ' 

"  'Hail,  hail,  to  the  Lord.'  " 

"  'And  the  King  of  Glory  shall  come  in.'  " 

"  'Who  is  the  King  of  Glory?'  " 

"  'The  Lord,  strong  and  mighty.'  " 

"  'The  Lord,  will  not  cast  off  forever;  but  though 
He  cause  grief,  yet  will  He  have  compassion,  accord 
ing  to  the  multitude  of  His  mercies.'  ' 

"  'I  will  not  contend  forever,  neither  will  I  be 
always  wroth.' 

"  'Come  and  let  us  return  unto  the  Lord:  for 
He  hath  torn  and  He  will  heal;  He  hath  smitten,  and 
He  will  bind  us  up.'  " 

"  'I  will  heal  their  back  slidings,  I  will  love  them 
freely;  for  mine  anger  is  turned  away.'  " 

"  'Who  is  a  God  like  unto  Thee,  that  pardoneth 
iniquity.  He  retaineth  not  His  anger  forever,  be 
cause  He  delighteth  in  mercy.'  " 

"  'Say  to  the  prisoners,  Go  forth;  to  them  that 
are  in  darkness,  show  yourselves.  I  am  He  that 
liveth  and  was  dead;  and  behold  I  am  alive  forever- 
more,  anew:  and  I  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  death.'  " 

"And  thus  the  gates  were  lifted,  and  the  King 
of  Glory  entered.  And  what  a  radiance  shone  in 
the  gloom!  The  shades  of  darkness  fled,  the  chains 
of  error  dropped  asunder,  the  overburdened  heart 
found  glad  relief,  for  the  Lord  brought  the  tidings 
of  great  joy  to  the  spirits  in  prison,  offering  them 
pardon  and  peace  in  exchange  for  their  broken 
hearts." 

"Then  they  sang: 


ADDED  UPON  149 

'  "Hark,  ten  thousand  thousand  voices 

Sing  a  song  of  Jubilee! 
A  world,  once  captive,  now  rejoices, 

Freed  from  long  captivity. 
Hail,  Emanuel!   Great  Deliverer! 

Hail,  our  Savior,  praise  to  thee! 
Now  the  theme,  in  pealing  thunders, 

Through  the  universe  is  rung; 
Now  in  gentle  tones,  the  wonders 

Of  redeeming  grace  is  sung."  ' 

"For  three  days,  as  counted  by  earth-time,  the 
Redeemer  ministered  in  this  spirit  world,  preaching 
the  gospel,  giving  instructions,  and  making  plain 
the  way  of  His  servants  to  follow.  Joy  and  glad 
ness  filled  many  hearts.  Then,  when  the  time  had 
fully  come,  the  great  Captain  of  Salvation  led  the 
way  against  the  enemy  of  men's  souls.  He  laid  low 
the  Monster  that  had  for  ages  kept  grim  watch  at 
the  Gates  of  Death.  He  broke  through  the  grave 
to  the  regions  of  life  and  light  and  immortality.  The 
Hope  of  Ages  thus  went  forth  conquering;  and  those 
who  followed  Him  through  the  resurrection  from 
the  dead  sang: 

"  'Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory!  0,  death, 
where  is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  vic 
tory?'  " 

II. 

"Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap.  For 
he  that  soweth  to  his  flesh  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption; 
but  he  that  soweth  to  the  Spirit  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap  life 
everlasting."— Gal.  6:7,  8. 

In  the  spirit  world  are  Rupert,  Signe,  Henrik, 


150  ADDED  UPON 

Marie,  Rachel  and  all  our  friends  in  their  time  and 
place.  These  are  employed  in  joyous  activity,  as 
they  see  their  field  of  usefulness  continually  widen. 
Rupert  had  done  a  great  work  before  the  others  had 
come.  He  had  preached  the  gospel  to  many  people, 
mostly  his  ancestors,  among  whom  there  had  been 
at  the  time  of  his  arrival  among  them  an  awaken 
ing  and  a  desire  for  the  truth.  He  had  traced  his 
family  back  to  those  who  on  earth  had  been  known 
as  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  thence  through  many  gen 
erations  to  the  Norsemen  of  northern  Europe.  His 
wife's  family  he  had  also  searched  out,  and  he  had 
discovered,  greatly  to  his  delight,  that  her  family 
and  his  met  in  a  sturdy,  somewhat  fierce,  Viking 
chief.  Rupert  had  sought  him  out,  and  had  told 
him  of  Christ  and  His  gospel — and  the  Viking  had 
been  willing  to  be  taught.  When  Signe  had  come, 
Rupert  had  brought  her  to  visit  her  many-times- 
great-grandmother,  who  was  a  beautiful  flaxen- 
haired,  blue-eyed  woman,  whom  Signe  herself  some 
what  resembled. 

Then  when  Rupert  met  and  became  acquainted 
with  Henrik,  Marie,  and  Rachel,  he  told  them  of 
what  he  had  done,  and  how  that  their  vicarious 
work  for  the  dead  had  fitted  so  nicely  in  with  his 
preaching,  in  that  many  of  those  for  whom  they  had 
been  baptized  were  those  whom  he  had  converted. 
"We  have  been  working  in  harmony  and  in  conjunc 
tion,"  exclaimed  Rupert,  "and  God's  providence  is 
even  now  clearly  justified."  What  joy  was  there 
when  Henrik  and  his  friends  met  those  for  whom 
they  had  performed  the  necessary  earthly  rites! 


ADDED  UPON  151 

Many  of  these  had  long  ago  believed  the  gospel,  and 
their  hearts  had  been  turned  to  their  children — 
their  descendants  living  on  the  earth — that  they 
would  remember  their  fathers  who  had  gone  before; 
and  these  were  overjoyed  when  they  met  their  "sa 
viors,"  as  they  called  them.  Then,  there  were  others 
who  had  not  accepted  the  work  done  for  them,  and 
these  were,  naturally,  not  so  enthusiastic  in  their 
greetings.  Others  there  were  who  were  yet  in  ig 
norance  of  Christ,  of  His  plan  of  salvation,  and  the 
work  that  had  been  done  for  them.  These  would 
have  to  be  taught  and  given  a  chance  to  accept 
or  reject  what  had  been  done. 

"You  enjoy  a  happiness  that  does  not  come  to 
me,"  said  a  brother  to  Henrik,  "in  that  you  receive 
the  love  and  joyous  greetings  of  those  for  whom  you 
did  work  in  mortality." 

"Had  you  no  opportunity  to  do  such  work?" 
asked  Henrik. 

"Yes;  but  I  had  no  names  of  ancestry,  and  the 
truth  is,  I  did  not  try  to  get  any." 

"You  did  not  do  all  in  your  power?" 

"No;  I  was  careless  in  the  matter." 

"If  you  had  only  tried,  the  way  would  have 
been  opened.  That  is  a  true  principle.  We  do  not 
know  what  regions  of  usefulness  lie  before  us  if  we 
do  no  exploring." 

Signe  and  Rachel  were  closely  associated,  and 
they  performed  missions  together  to  their  less  en 
lightened  sisters  whose  condition  was  not  so  favor 
able.  These  were  of  the  frivolous  and  foolish  wo 
men  who  had  been  taken  captive  by  earthly  things. 


152  ADDED  UPON 

All  their  treasures  had  been  of  earth,  so  on  earth  they 
had  to  be  left,  for  none  could  be  taken  into  the  spirit 
world;  these,  therefore,  were  poor  indeed.  They 
had  nothing  with  which  to  occupy  themselves:  in 
earth-life,  wealth,  fashion,  the  gratification  of  de 
praved  appetites  and  passions,  and  the  pampering 
of  worldly  vanities  had  been  their  chief  concern; 
and  now  that  earthly  things  were  no  more,  these 
women  were  as  if  lost  in  a  strange  world,  having 
no  sure  footing,  groping  about  in  semi-darkness, 
hungering  and  thirsting,  but  finding  no  means  by 
which  they  might  be  satisfied.  They  laughed  and 
appeared  to  make  merry  because  it  was  their  nature 
so  to  do,  but  their  laugh  was  empty,  and  their  mer 
riment  rang  hollow  and  untrue. 

"I  am  more  than  ever  thankful,"  said  Signe  to 
Rachel  when  they  had  labored  long  with  a  group  of 
frivolous  women,  "that  the  gospel  reached  us  in 
earth-life." 

"And  that  we  accepted  it,"  added  Rachel. 

"Yes;  many  of  these  sisters  of  ours  are  not  evil; 
they  are  just  weak, — empty  of  good.  Their  earthly 
training  was  at  fault.  And  then  some  of  them  have 
told  me  that  they  were  very  much  surprised  to  find 
that  death  had  not  worked  a  transformation  in 
them:  they  have  still  the  same  feelings,  desires  and 
thoughts  as  before." 

"Some  foolish  things  were  taught  in  earth- 
life,"  said  Rachel,  "one  of  them  being  deathbed  re 
pentance.  Common  sense,  if  not  reason,  ought  to 
have  told  us  that  a  change  of  heart  coming  when  a 
person  is  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties  is  far  bet- 


ADDED  UPON  153 

ter  than  the  confessions  made  in  fear  of  death.  Re 
pentance  should  have  come  further  back,  for  the 
sooner  we  turn  about  on  the  right  way,  the  further 
we  get  on  the  road  to  perfection." 

Rachel  finished  her  little  speech  with  a  smile — 
the  simple  sweet  smile,  fixed  into  her  nature  for 
all  time.  A  strange  sister  came  up  to  her,  who  was 
greeted  pleasantly. 

"I  want  to  know  more  of  you  two,"  she  said. 
"There  is  something  about  you  different  from  me 
or  my  mates.  When  you  mix  with  us  and  talk  with 
us,  I  can  feel  it,  but  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  You 
appear  to  me  to  be,  lilies-of-the-valley  among  weeds 
— yes,  that's  it." 

"And  isn't  a  weed  just  a  useful  plant  grown 
wild?"  asked  Signe.  "All  it  needs  is  careful  culti 
vation.  Come  with  us  as  we  walk  along.  We  shall 
be  pleased  to  talk  with  you.  We  are  not  very  wise, 
but  we  may  always  ask  the  brethren  who  are  wiser, 
for  more  light." 

And  so  these  three  went  slowly  along  the  beau 
tiful  paths  of  spirit-land,  conversing  as  they  went. 
The  hazel  eyes  of  the  brown-haired  stranger  opened 
in  wide  astonishment  at  what  her  sisters  told  her. 
Sometimes  she  asked  questions,  sometimes  she  shook 
her  head  in  disbelief.  She  had  been  a  "worldly" 
woman,  she  told  them,  never  thinking  that  there 
would  be  any  life  other  than  the  one  she  was  living 
while  on  the  earth;  and  so  she  had  shaped  her  daily 
conduct  by  that  narrow  standard.  Her  earth-life 
had  ended  sadly,  and  existence  had  been  bitter  ever 
since,  "Restless  and  hopeless,  I  have  wandered  for 


154  ADDED  UPON 

a  long  time,"  she  said.  "I  have  seen  you  two  a  num 
ber  of  times  and  have  heard  you  talk  to  the  women. 
Your  words  seemed  to  bring  to  me  a  glimpse  of 
something  better,  but  I  never  had  the  courage  to 
speak  to  you  until  now." 

Signe  put  her  arms  around  her,  drew  her  close, 
and  kissed  her  cheek.  "Let  us  do  you  all  the  good 
we  can,"  she  said.  "We  are  going  now  to  attend 
a  meeting  where  my  husband  is  to  speak.  Come 
with  us." 

Rachel  linked  her  arm  into  that  of  the  stranger's 
who  willingly  accompanied  them.  "Is  your  husband 
also  a  preacher?"  she  asked  of  Rachel. 

"I  have  no  husband,"  was  the  reply.  "I  did 
not — I  mean,  he  did  not  find  me,  has  not  found  me 
yet."  Rachel  was  somewhat  confused  but  she  smiled 
as  ever. 

"She  means,"  explained  Signe,  "that  she  did 
not  marry  while  in  earth-life,  for  the  very  good  rea 
son  that  she  had  no  chance — " 

"None  such  that  I  could  accept,"  added  Rachel. 
Then  as  the  newly-found  friend  looked  at  her  in 
quiringly,  she  continued: 

"I  have  always  believed,  and  I  believe  now,  that 
I  have  a  mate  somewhere,  but  he  has  not  yet  been 
revealed.  Frequently  I  asked  the  Lord  about  it  in 
earth-life,  and  the  answer  by  the  spirit  always  was 
'Wait,  patiently  wait';  so  I  am  still  waiting." 

"And  you  still  have  faith,"  asked  the  stranger, 
"that  the  God  of  heaven  will  answer  your  prayers 
and  bring  about  all  things  for  the  best?" 

"Why,  certainly." 


ADDED  UPON  155 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  that.  Had  I  in  earth  life 
had  some  such  belief  to  anchor  to,  perhaps  I  would 
not  have  made  so  many  mistakes.  I  married  twice, 
and  they  were  both  mistakes.  The  one  chance  I 
had  of  getting  a  man — I  mean,  one  who  does  not 
belie  the  word — I  threw  away,  because  he  was  poor 
in  wordly  goods;  but  I  suffered  through  my  foolish 

errors I  have  heard  of  people  praying  about 

many  things,  but  never  have  I  heard  of  the  Lord 
being  asked  about  love  affairs." 

"That  may  be  true,"  said  Signe;  "and  it  shows 
how  foolish  we  were.  Why  should  people  importune 
the  Lord  about  small  trials  and  petty  ailments,  and 
at  the  same  time  neglect  to  ask  His  guidance  on  mat 
ters  of  love  and  marriage  which  make  or  mar  one's 
life?" 

There  seemed  to  be  no  immediate  answer  to 
this  query,  so  the  three  passed  along  in  silence. 
Presently  the  newcomer  spoke  again: 

"I  am  getting  more  light  and  hope  since  I  asso 
ciate  with  you  two.  I  believe  my  faith  is  being 
kindled,  and  0,  it  feels  so  good  to  get  a  little  firm 
footing." 

"Yes,  dear  sister,"  said  Rachel.  "The  tangled 
threads  of  earth-life  are  not  all  straightened  out 
yet.  It  will  take  time,  and  we  must  have  patience." 

Arriving  at  the  place  of  meeting,  the  three 
women  took  positions  near  the  platform  upon  which 
the  speakers  sat.  Rupert  was  the  principal  speaker. 
He  began  by  telling  his  listeners  something  about 
his  experiences  in  earth-life.  He  spoke  of  his  boy 
hood  days,  of  the  trials  and  difficulties  he  had  en- 


156  ADDED  UPON 

countered,  and  how  near  he  had  come  to  being  lost 
to  all  good.  Then  he  told  how  the  Lord  had  rescued 
him,  and  brought  him  to  a  knowledge  of  the  gospel 
of  salvation.  "And  the  Lord's  chief  instrument  in 
this  work  of  rescue/'  the  speaker  said,  "was  a  beau 
tiful,  good  woman,  who  became  my  wife.  0,  you 
women,  what  power  you  have  for  good  or  evil!  See 
to  it  that  you  use  your  powers  for  the  purposes  of 
good." 

Rachel  smiled  at  Signe  while  they  listened,  for 
Rupert's  and  Signe's  story  was  quite  familiar  to  her. 
All  the  time  Rupert  had  been  speaking,  the  woman 
who  had  come  with  them  sat  as  if  spellbound,  her 
big  eyes  fixed  on  the  speaker.  When  Rupert  closed, 
Signe  said  to  her  friend: 

"That  is  my  husband.  Let  us  go  up  to  him; 
he  will  be  glad  to  meet  you." 

But  the  woman  drew  back  as  if  afraid.  "I 
can't,"  she  whispered.  "Forgive  me,  but  I  must 
go" — and  with  a  faint  cry  she  retreated  and  disap 
peared  in  the  crowd,  the  two  women  looking  after 
in  wonder  and  astonishment. 

Just  then  Rupert  stepped  up  to  them.  Seeing 
their  wonder,  he  asked  the  reason.  Signe  explained. 

"I  think  I  can  guess  who  it  was,"  said  Rupert. 
"Well,  well,"  he  murmured  as  if  to  himself,  "I  had 
nearly  forgotten  her." 

"Yes,  I  believe  it  was  she,"  added  Signe. 

"Was  who?"  inquired  Rachel. 

But  Rupert  stopped  any  reply  that  his  wife 
might  wish  to  make  by  interrupting  with: 

"I  saw  an  impressive  sight  not  long  ago — Come, 


ADDED  UPON  157 

let  us  be  getting  on  our  way  home,  and  I  shall  tell 
it  to  you." 

They  were  willing  to  listen  as  they  journeyed. 
"We  were  out,"  began  Rupert — "a  brother  and  I — 
getting  some  information  needed  in  one  of  the  tem 
ples  on  earth  for  a  brother  who  had  gone  as  far  as 
he  could  with  his  genealogy.  As  we  were  talking  to 
a  group  of  sisters  a  man  rushed  in  upon  us.  With 
quick,  eager  words  he  asked  us  if  we  had  seen  some 
one  whom  he  named  and  described.  At  the  sight 
of  him,  one  of  the  women  shrunk  back  as  if  to  hide 
in  the  crowd,  but  he  saw  her,  and  exclaimed: 

"  'Is  that  you?  Yes — Oh,  have  I  found  you  at 
last!'  " 

"The  sister  put  forth  her  hand  as  if  to  ward  him 
off,  as  he  pressed  through  the  crowd  to  her.  'How 
did  you  get  here?'  she  asked.  'Keep  away — 
you  are  unclean — keep  away.' 

"He  paused  in  some  astonishment  at  this  recep 
tion.  Then  he  pleaded  with  her  to  let  him  accom 
pany  her;  but  she  retreated  from  him,  crying,  'You 
are  unclean;  do  not  touch  me.' 

"  'Yes,'  he  acknowledged,  'I  suppose  I  have 
been  a  sinner;  but  listen  to  my  justification:  I  sinned 
to  drown  my  sorrow  when  you  died.  I,  also,  wanted 
to  die.  My  heart  was  broken — I  could  not  stand 
it — it  was  because  I  loved  you  so — ' 

"  'No;  you  did  not  love  me.  Love  is  pure — 
made  purer  by  sorrow.  Had  you  truly  loved,  you 
would  not  have  sinned  so  grievously.  Your  sorrow 
needed  to  be  repented  of.  Sorrow  cannot  be  drowned 


158  ADDED  UPON 

in  sin — no,  no;  go  away.  Please  go;  you  frighten 
me.' 

"The  man  stood  rigid  for  some  time,  and  the 
expression  on  his  face  was  something  terrible  to  see. 
The  cold,  clear  truth  had  for  the  first  time  burst 
upon  him  to  his  convincing.  He  had  a  'bright  rec 
ollection  of  all  his  guilt/  and  his  torment  was  'as  a 
lake  of  fire  and  brimstone.'  The  woman,  recovering 
somewhat  from  her  fright,  stood  before  him  with 
innocent,  clear-shining  eyes,  with  half  pity  and  half 
fear  showing  in  her  beautiful  countenance — for  the 
woman  was  beautiful.  The  man  stood  for  a  mo 
ment,  which  seemed  a  long  time  to  all  who  witnessed 
the  scene,  then  his  head  dropped,  his  form  seemed 
to  shrivel  up  as  he  slouched  out  of  our  company  and 
disappeared  from  sight." 

There  was  silence.  Then  Rupert  added,  "And 
yet  some  people  tried  to  make  us  believe  that  there 
is  no  hell." 

Rachel,  even,  forgot  to  ask  further  questions 
regarding  the  identity  of  the  woman  with  hazel  eyes 
and  auburn  hair,  for  just  then  Henrik  and  Marie 
appeared.  With  them  was  another  woman,  and  the 
three  were  so  preoccupied  that  they  were  oblivious 
to  all  others. 

"You  are  too  late  for  the  meeting,"  said  Rupert. 

"I  did  intend  to  get  there  in  time,"  replied  Hen 
rik,  "but  don't  you  see  who  is  here?" 

Rupert  did  not  recognize  the  woman  who  stood 
by  Marie  with  arms  about  each  other,  but  Signe 
cried  in  joyous  greeting,  "Clara,  Clara,  is  that  you?" 

"This  is  Clara,"  said  Marie  to  Rupert,  "she  who 


ADDED  UPON  159 

came  to  Henrik  after  I  left  him, — who  helped  him 
so  much,  and  who  was  so  good  to  my  children.  She 
has  just  come,  and  has  brought  us  much  good  news 
from  them.  I  am  so  glad."  Marie's  arm  drew  tight 
around  the  newcomer  as  she  kissed  her  cheek. 

"I,  also,  am  glad  to  welcome  you,"  said  Rupert. 
''Brother  Henrik,"  he  added,  "your  excuse  for  non- 
attendance  at  our  meeting  is  accepted." 


III. 


"The  Lord  .  .  .  will  fulfill  the  desire  of  them  that  fear  him; 
he  will  also  hear  their  cry." — Psalms  156:19. 

Rachel  found  continual  delight  in  all  the  won 
ders  of  spirit-land.  Her  circle  of  acquaintances 
enlarged  rapidly,  as  those  for  whom  she  had  done 
temple  work  were  glad  to  know  her,  and  to  know 
her  was  to  love  her.  These  brought  her  in  touch 
with  many  others;  thus  her  sphere  of  usefulness 
extended  until  she,  too,  could  say  that  she  was  busier 
than  ever  in  joy-giving  activities. 

Sometimes  Rachel  went  on  what  she  called  "ex 
cursions  of  exploration."  Usually  she  went  alone, 
for  the  habit  of  doing  things  of  herself  still  clung 
to  her.  Frequently,  in  the  throngs  of  people  with 
whom  she  mingled,  she  was  accosted  by  someone 
who  recognized  her.  Rachel  did  not  remember  faces 
easily,  but  (she  was  on  one  of  her  excursions)  she 
knew  this  woman  who  touched  her  on  the  arm,  and 
said: 

"You  are  Sister  Rachel,  are  you  not?" 


160  ADDED  UPON 

"Yes;  and  you — yes,  I  know  you.  I  am  glad 
to  meet  you.  How  are  you?  Has  the  Lord  shown 
you, — has  He  satisfied  you?  You  see  I  remember 
you  well." 

The  woman  showed  her  gladness  at  Rachel's 
recognition.  "The  Lord  has  shown  me  abundantly 
and  graciously,"  she  replied;  "but  come  with  me 
away  from  the  crowd.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  tell  you 
all  about  it."  Rachel  accompanied  the  woman,  who 
led  her  out  into  some  quieter  streets,  thence  to  a 
beautiful  home  under  tall  trees.  Flowers  bloomed 
and  birds  sang  in  the  garden.  The  two  women 
seated  themselves  by  a  playing  fountain. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  not  forgotten  me.  My 
name  you  may  not  remember — it  is  Sister  Rose." 

"Your  face,  dear  sister,  your  beautiful  face 
marked  with  that  deep  sorrow,  no  one  could  forget;" 
said  Rachel,  "but  now  the  sorrow  is  gone,  I  see,  and 
the  beauty  remains." 

Sister  Rose  took  the  other's  hand  caressingly. 
"That  day  in  the  temple,"  she  said,  "I  came  there 
as  a  place  of  last  resort.  I  was  suffering,  and  had 
tried  everything  that  I  could  think  of  to  ease  my 
troubled  soul.  I  had  prayed  to  God  to  give  me  some 
manifestation  regarding  my  boy.  I  came  to  the 
temple  to  get  a  great  favor,  and  I  obtained  a  bless 
ing.  Instead  of  receiving  some  miraculous  mani 
festation,  you  came  to  me  and  led  me  gently  to  a 
seat  by  ourselves.  And  there  you  talked  to  me.  It 
was  not  so  much  what  you  said,  but  the  spirit  by 
which  you  said  it  that  soothed  and  quieted  and 
rested  me.  You  repeated  to  me  some  verses,  do  you 


ADDED  UPON  161 

remember?    I  had  you  write  them  out,  and  I  com 
mitted  them  to  memory." 

"Do  you  remember  them  yet?" 

"Listen: 

"Thou  knowest,  0  my  Father!  Why  should  I 
Weary  high  heaven  with  restless  prayers  and  tears! 

Thou  knowest  all!    My  heart's  unuttered  cry 

Hath  soared  beyond  the  stars  and  reached  Thine  ears. 

Thou  knowest — ah,  Thou  knowest!   Then  what  need, 

Oh,  loving  God,  to  tell  Thee  o'er  and  o'er. 
And  with  persistent  iteration  plead 

As  one  who  crieth  at  some  closed  door." 

"That  day  I  went  away  comforted  and  strength 
ened.  Do  you  recollect?" 

"Yes;  but  what  was  your  trouble?  I  do  not 
remember  that." 

"My  son,  my  only  child,  was  taken  so  cruelly 
from  me.  He  was  the  hope  of  my  life,  and  when 
he  answered  the  call  to  go  on  a  mission  to  the  islands 
of  the  sea,  I  let  him  go  gladly,  because  it  was  on  the 
Lord's  business.  Then  some  months  later  the  news 
came  that  he  had  died.  I  was  crazed  with  grief.  I 
could  not  understand  why  the  Lord  would  permit 
such  a  thing  to  take  place.  Was  my  boy  not  in  His 
service?  Why  did  not  the  Lord  take  care  of  His 
own?" 

"And  so  you  suffered,  both  because  of  your  loss 
and  because  of  your  thoughts,"  said  Rachel.  "Poor 
sister, — but  now?" 

"He  is  with  me  now,  and  it  has  all  been  ex- 


162  ADDED  UPON 

plained.  We  live  in  this  house.  Do  you  care  to  hear 
the  story?" 

"If  you  desire  to  tell  it,  yes." 

"You  seem  so  near  and  dear  to  me  that  I  may 
tell  it  to  you.  My  boy,  while  on  his  mission,  was 
tempted.  He  has  told  me  all  about  it — he  was 
tempted  sorely.  He  was  in  great  danger,  and  so 
the  Lord,  to  prevent  him  from  falling  into  the  mire 
of  sin,  permitted  him  to  be  taken  away.  They 
brought  his  lifeless  body  home  to  me,  but  his  spirit 
went  back  to  its  Maker  pure  and  unspotted  from 
the  sins  of  the  world, — and  thus  I  found  him  here, 
a  big,  fine-looking  man  as  he  was.  You  ought  to 
see  him." 

"Mother,"  someone  called  from  the  direction  of 
the  house. 

"That  is  he  now,"  said  the  mother,  rising. 

"Mother,  where  are  you?  Oh!"  the  son  ex 
claimed  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  two  women.  He 
came  up  to  them  and  rested  his  arm  tenderly  on  his 
mother's  shoulder.  He  was  big  and  handsome,  and 
Rachel's  eyes  dropped  before  his  curious  gaze. 

"David,  this  is  Sister  Rachel,  whom  I  first  met 
in  earth-life  in  the  temple.  I  think  I  have  told  you 
about  her  and  what  a  comfort  she  was  to  me." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  know  you,"  said  he,  as  he 
clasped  Rachel's  hand.  Then  there  was  a  pause 
which  promised  to  become  awkward,  at  which  David 
said: 

"Mother,  I  want  to  show  you  something  in  the 
back  garden.  You  know  I  have  been  experimenting 
with  my  roses.  I  believe  I  have  obtained  some  won- 


ADDED  UPON  163 

derful  color  effects.  You'll  come  also?"  he  asked 
Rachel. 

The  three  walked  on  together  into  the  garden 
where  David  exhibited  and  explained  his  work. 
When,  at  length,  Rachel  said  it  was  time  she  was 
going,  the  mother  urged  her  to  come  agan. 

"I'm  going  along  with  Sister  Rachel  to  her 
home,  and  to  find  out  where  she  lives,"  explained 
David,  as  he  stepped  along,  unbidden,  by  Rachel's 
side. 

And  so  these  two  walked  side  by  side  for  the 
first  time.  They  talked  freely  on  many  topics,  she 
listening  contentedly.  They  smiled  into  each  other's 
eyes,  and  at  the  end  of  that  short  journey,  some 
thing  had  happened.  True  love  had  awakened  in 
two  hearts.  Through  all  the  shifting  scenes  of 
earth-life,  nothing  like  this  had  ever  come  to  this 
man  and  this  woman.  Love  had  waited  all  this  time. 
The  power  that  draws  kindred  souls  together  is  not 
limited  to  the  few  years  of  earth-life.  While  time 
lasts,  God  will  provide  sometime,  somewhere,  in 
which  to  give  opportunity  for  every  deserving  soul. 
Here  were  two  whose  hearts  beat  as  one;  but  one 
must  needs  have  left  mortality  early  in  his  course, 
while  the  other  went  on  to  the  end  alone.  The  rea 
son  for  this  was  difficult  to  see  by  mortal  eyes,  but 
now — 

"I'm  coming  again  to  see  you,"  said  David,  as 
he  prepared  to  depart.  "I  have  so  much  to  tell  you; 
and  you, — you  have  said  very  little.  I  must  hear 
your  story  too." 

"I  have  no  story,"  said  she.    "My  earth-life  was 


164  ADDED  UPON 

very  uneventful.     I  just  seemed  to  be  waiting — " 

"Yes?" 

But  Rachel  was  confused.  Her  simple  heart 
had  spoken,  and  true  to  earthly  habit,  she  now  tried 
to  cover  up  her  tell-tale  words;  but  he  saw  and 
understood,  and  as  they  stood  there,  his  heart 
burned  with  a  great  joy. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said,  as  he  took  her  hand,  "may 
I  come  again  soon?" 

"Yes;"  she  answered.  "I  shall  be  pleased  to 
see  more  of  your  beautiful  flower  garden." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  courtship,  not  the 
less  sweet  because  it  had  been  postponed  for  so  long; 
not  the  less  real,  from  the  fact  that  the  man  and 
the  woman  were  spiritual  beings.  "Sin,"  said  the 
apostle,  "is  without  the  body;"  so  love  and  affection 
are  attributes  of  the  spirit,  whether  that  spirit  is 
within  or  without  a  tabernacle  of  flesh.  And  this 
courtship  did  not  differ  to  any  great  extent  from  all 
others  which  had  taken  place  from  the  beginning  of 
time.  There  were  the  same  timid  approaches  and 
responses;  the  getting  acquainted  with  each  other, 
wherein  each  lover's  eyes  glorified  every  act  in  the 
other;  the  tremulous  pressure  of  hands;  the  love- 
laden  looks  and  words;  the  thrill  of  inexpressible 
joy  when  the  two  were  together.  Neither  was  this 
courtship  exceptional.  Among  the  vast  multitude 
in  the  spirit  world  there  are  many  who  did  not  mate 
in  the  brief  time  allotted  to  them  in  the  earth- 
life;  therefore,  congenial  spirits  are  continually 
meeting  and  reading  "life's  meaning  in  each  other's 
eyes." 


ADDED  UPON  165 

Rachel,  though  she  claimed  to  have  no  "story" 
to  tell,  interested  David  greatly  in  her  account  of 
how  the  Lord  had  chosen  her  as  one  of  a  family  to 
become  a  savior  on  Mt.  Zion.  The  work  for  the 
dead  had  not  interested  him.  He,  in  connection 
with  the  youth  of  his  time,  had  neglected  that  part 
of  the  gospel  plan;  and  now,  of  course,  he  saw  his 
mistake. 

"Yes,"  David  acknowledged  to  Rachel,  "I  see 
my  error  now,  as  usual,  when  it  is  too  late  to  remedy 
it.  You  who  were  faithful  rank  above  me  here." 

"Don't  say  that,"  she  pleaded. 

"But  it  is  true.  Your  good  deeds  came  before 
you  here  and  gave  you  a  standing.  Some  of  the 
treasures  you  destined  for  heaven  were  detained 
here,  and  you  are  now  reaping  benefits  from  them. 
Do  I  not  see  it  all  the  time?  When  we  meet  new 
people,  you  are  received  with  delight — I  am  un 
known." 

"David,  what  comes  to  me,  you  partake  of  also, 
because — " 

"Because  you  shall  belong  to  me.  Yes,  dear 
one;  that  is  the  blessed  truth.  The  Lord  has  brought 
us  together,  and  all  else  should  be  forgotten  in  our 

gratitude  to  Him Rachel,  we  would  have 

known  each  other  in  earth-life  had  I  behaved  my 
self.  Our  lives  were  surely  trending  toward  each 
other,  and  our  paths  would  have  met.  We  would 
have  loved  and  have  wedded  there,  had  it  not  been 
for  my — " 

"Say  no  more.    Let  us  forget  the  past  in  think- 


166  ADDED  UPON 

ing  of  and  planning  for  the  future.      I  am  happy 
now,  and  so  is  your  mother." 
"And  so  am  I." 


IV. 

f'Whatsoever  God  doeth  it  shall  be  forever."— Ecd.  S:14. 

David  and  Rachel  were  out  walking  when  they 
saw  another  couple  whose  lovelike  actions  were 
noticeable.  As  they  met,  the  couple  stopped  and 
the  man  said,  "Pardon  me,  but  we  are  somewhat 
strange  in  this  new  world.  May  we  ask  you  some 
questions?"  l^-^v^ 

"Let  us  sit  down  here  together,"  suggested 
David,  and  he  led  the  way  to  a  place  where  they 
could  sit  quietly.  "Are  you  in  trouble?" 

"Well,  I  hardly  know,"  replied  the  man.  "Anna 
and  I  are  together,  and  perhaps  we  ought  to  be 
satisfied;  but  somehow  we  are  not.  There  is  some 
thing  lacking." 

"Yes?" 

"You  see,  we  left  the  earth-life,  so  suddenly — 
we  were  so  poorly  prepared  for  this."  His  com 
panion  clasped  his  arm  as  if  to  be  protected  from 
some  impending  danger.  "We  were  boating  on  the 

lake,  the  boat  overturned,  and  here  we  are We 

were  to  have  been  married  the  next  day,  but  now — 
now  what  is  our  condition?  We  are  not  husband 
and  wife;  neither,  I  suppose,  can  we  be,  for  we  were 
taught  back  in  that  world  from  where  we  came,  that 


ADDED  UPON  167 

there  is  no  married  condition  here.  Yet  you  two 
are  husband  and  wife,  are  you  not?" 

"Not  yet,"  replied  David,  "but  we  expect  to 
be." 

"I  don't  understand;  you  seem  to  know;  teach 
us.  May  we  be  married  here?" 

David  explained  the  principle  of  celestial  mar 
riage  as  it  had  been  revealed  to  them  in  earth-life, 
and  contrasted  that  doctrine  with  what  was  usually 
taught.  "So  you  see,"  said  he,  "even  if  you  had  been 
married  on  that  day  appointed  in  mortality,  it  would 
have  been  only  until  death  did  you  part.  You  have 
passed  through  death,  and  so,  the  contract  between 
you  would  have  come  to  an  end,  and  you  would  not 
now  be  husband  and  wife." 

"But  you  said  that  you  two  were  to  be  married. 
How?" 

"Had  we  been  married  in  earth-life,  it  would 
have  been  for  time  and  eternity,  because  it  would 
have  been  performed  by  the  authority  of  the  Lord. 
What  God  does,  is  forever.  Marriage  must  be  sol 
emnized  on  the  earth.  As  our  earth-days  are  past, 
we  cannot  go  back,  so  the  ceremony  must  be  done 
for  us  by  someone  else  living  on  the  earth.  Sister 
Rachel  here,  while  in  earth-life,  did  for  thousands 
who  had  gone  before  what  they  could  not  do  for 
themselves.  Now,  someone,  in  the  Lord's  own  due 
time,  will  stand  for  her,  and  do  for  her  what  she 
did  not  do  for  herself." 

The  two  new  acquaintances  listened  attentively 
while  David  and  sometimes  Rachel  instructed  them 
on  the  principles  of  the  gospel,  and  their  applica- 


168  ADDED  UPON 

tion  to  those  who  were  in  the  spirit  world.  They 
spoke  to  them  of  faith  and  repentance,  principles 
which  all  men  everywhere  could  receive  and  exer 
cise.  They  explained  the  ordinance  of  baptism  for 
the  remission  of  sins,  an  earthly  rite,  which  could 
be  believed  in  and  accepted  by  those  in  the  spirit 
world,  but  would  have  to  be  performed  for  them 
vicariously  by  someone  on  earth.  Marriage  for  eter 
nity  was  also  further  explained. 

"It  is  true,"  concluded  David,  "that  in  the  res 
urrection  there  is  neither  marrying  nor  giving  in 
marriage.  All  that  must  be  attended  to  before  the 
resurrection,  which  for  all  of  us — luckily — is  yet  in 
the  future.  We  know  for  a  surety  that  if  we  do  our 
part  the  best  we  know,  the  Lord  will  take  care  of 
the  rest." 

These  four  people  did  not  part  until  David  and 
Rachel  had  promised  to  meet  their  friends  again 
soon,  and  continue  the  talk  which  had  so  favorably 
begun.  When  the  two  had  left,  David  turned  to 
Rachel  and  said: 

"Did  you  see  the  lovelight  glowing  in  their  eyes 
when  their  hearts  were  touched  with  the  truth?" 

"Yes,  as  it  did  in  yours  when  you  were  speak 
ing." 

"And  in  yours,  too,  my  dear,  when  it  was  your 
turn." 

"It's  good  to  be  a  missionary — always  a  mis 
sionary,  isn't  it,  as  long  as  there  is  one  being  in  need 
of  guidance  and  instruction." 

"It  is  very  good,  indeed,  David." 

"Rachel,  glad  news  for  us.    We,  you  and  I,  are 


ADDED  UPON  169 

soon  to  follow  our  parents  and  our  older  brothers 
and  sisters,  up  through  the  gates  of  the  resurrec 
tion,  which  our  Lord  so  graciously  opened 

Yes,  yes,  it  is  true Into  the  celestial  kingdom, 

with  bodies  of  celestial  glory  and  go  on  to  our  exal 
tation  And,  dear,  the  work  is  being  done  for 

us  in  the  Temple  of  our  God Yes,  right  now, 

it  is  being  done.    Come,  Rachel,  let  us  go  and  be  as 

near  as  we  can Yes,  we  have  permission 

This  is  the  Temple.  God's  messengers  are  here, 
and  His  Spirit  broods  in  and  around  the  holy  place. 
That  Spirit  we  also  in  common  with  mortality,  may 
feel.  You,  Rachel,  ought  to  be  at  home  here,  more 
so  than  I.  Let  us  follow  the  man  and  the  woman 

who  are  doing  the  work  for  us Do  you  see 

them  clearly,  Rachel? Yes;  we  shall  not  for 
get  them  when  they,  too,  come  to  us  in  the  spirit, 
but  we  shall  give  them  a  welcome  such  as  they  have 

never  dreamed  of Now  they  are  by  the  altar. 

Kneel  here  by  me,  Rachel, — your  hand  in  mine,  like 
this.  Listen,  can  you  hear?  'For  and  in  behalf  of,' 
you  and  me It  is  done.  We  are  hus 
band  and  wife.  You  are  mine  for  eternity,  mine, 

mine 0,    Eternal    Father,    we    thank    Thee!" 

David  holds  the  fair  form  of  his  wife  in  his 
arms.  He  kisses  her  cheeks,  her  eyes,  her  lips.  Then 
there  is  silence. 


PART   FOURTH. 


Freedom  waves  her  joyous  pinions 

O'er  a  land;  from  sea  to  sea, 
Ransomed,  righteous,  and  rejoicing 

In  a  world-wide  jubilee. 

O'er  a  people  happy,  holy, 
Gifted  now  with  heavenly  grace, 

Free  from  every  sordid  fetter 
That  enslaved  a  fallen  race. 

Union,  love,  and  fellow  feeling 

Mark  the  sainted  day  of  power; 
Rich  and  poor  in  all  things  equal, 
Righteousness  their  rock  and  tower. 

Mountain  peaks  of  pride  are  leveled, 

Lifted  up  the  lowly  plain, 
Crookedness  made  straight,  while  crudenesa 

Now  gives  way  to  culture's  reign. 

Now  no  tyrant's  sceptre  saddens; 

Now  no  bigot's  power  can  bind. 
Faith  and  work,  alike  unfettered, 

Win  the  goal  by  heaven  designed. 

God,  not  mammon,  hath  the  worship 

Of  His  people,  pure  in  heart: 
This  is  Zion — oh,  ye  nations, 

Choose  with  her    the  better  part!" 

Crown  and  sceptre,  sword  and  buckler — 
Baubles! — lay  them  at  her  feet. 

Strife  no  more  shall  vex  creation; 
Christ's  is  now  the  kingly  seat. 

Cities,  empires,  kingdoms,  powers, 

In  one  mighty  realm  divine. 
She,  the  least  and  last  of  nations, 

Henceforth  as  their  head  shall  shine. 

'Tis  thy  future  glory,  Zion, 

Glittering  in  celestial  rays, 
As  the  ocean's  sun-lit  surging 

Rolls  upon  my  raptured  gaze! 

All  that  ages  past  have  promised, 
All  that  noblest  minds  have  prized, 

All  that  holy  lips  have  prayed  for, 
Here  at  last  is  realized. 

— Orson  F .  Whitney. 


I. 


"Arise,  shine;  for  thy  light  is  come,  and  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  is  risen  upon  thee.  *  *  *  And  the  Gentiles  shall  come  to 
thy  light  and  kings  to  the  brightness  of  thy  rising." —  Isaiah 
60:1,  3. 

The  sun  in  its  downward  course  had  reached 
the  hazy  zone,  which,  bounded  by  the  clear  blue 
above  and  the  horizon  below,  extended  around  the 
green  earth;  in  the  west,  the  round  disk  of  the  sun 
shone  through  it,  and  tinged  the  landscape  with  a 
beautiful,  mellow  light. 

It  was  midsummer.  The  sun  had  been  hot  all 
the  day,  and  when  on  that  evening  two  men  reined 
in  the  horses  they  were  driving,  and  paused  on  the 
summit  of  a  small  hill,  a  cool  breeze  reached  them, 
and  they  bared  their  heads  to  the  refreshing  air. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  as  they  gazed  on  the  scene 
before  them;  its  grandeur  and  beauty  were  too  vast 
for  words. 

Before  them,  to  the  west,  lay  the  city,  the  ob 
ject  of  their  long  journey — before  them,  it  lay  as  a 
queen  in  the  midst  of  her  surroundings.  At  first 
sight,  it  seemed  one  immense  palace,  rather  than  a 
city  of  palaces,  as  the  second  view  indicated.  Street 
after  street,  mansion  after  mansion,  the  city  stretch 
ed  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  mingling  with 
trees  and  gardens. 

Rising  from  the  center  of  the  city  was  the  tem 
ple.  Its  walls  shone  like  polished  marble,  and  its 


174  ADDED  UPON 

towers  seemed  to  pierce  the  sky,  as  around  about 
them  a  white  cloud  hung.  This  cloud  extended  from 
the  temple  as  a  center,  over  the  whole  city,  and 
seemed  as  it  were  a  covering. 

The  sun  sank  behind  the  horizon;  still  the  cloud 
glowed  with  light,  as  if  the  sun's  rays  still  lingered 
there. 

For  ten  minutes  the  carriage  had  paused  on  the 
elevation,  and  the  two  men  had  gazed  in  silence. 
Then  the  driver,  as  if  awakening  from  a  dream, 
gave  the  horses  the  word  to  go,  as  he  said: 

"We  must  drive  on." 

"Yes;  night  is  coming  on." 

The  second  speaker  was  a  middle  aged  man  of 
commanding  bearing.  He  leaned  back  in  the  car 
riage  as  they  sped  onward. 

"So  this  is  the  world  renowned  city,"  he  said, 
"the  new  capital  of  the  world  to  which  we  all  must 
bow  in  submission;  within  whose  borders  sit  judges 
and  rulers  the  like  of  which  for  power  and  wisdom 
have  never  yet  appeared.  Truly,  she  is  the  rising 
light  of  the  world.  What  say  you,  Remand?" 

"  ;Tis  indeed  a  wondrous  sight,  your  majesty. 
The  reality  far  exceeds  any  reports  that  have  come 
to  us." 

"It  is  well,  Remand,  that  we  chose  this  slower 
mode  of  coming  into  the  city.  Electricity  would 
have  brought  us  here  in  a  fraction  of  the  time;  but 
who  would  miss  this  beautiful  drive?" 

They  were  already  within  the  outskirts  of  the 
city.  Although  all  that  day  they  had  driven  through 
a  most  beautiful  region  of  cities  and  fields  and  gar- 


ADDED  UPON  175 

dens,  the  latter  being  gorgeous  with  flowers  and 
fruit,  yet  the  glory  of  this  city  far  surpassed  any 
thing  they  had  yet  beheld.  Over  the  smooth,  paved 
roadway,  their  carriage  glided  noiselessly.  The 
blooming  flowers  and  trees  shed  sweet  odors  in  the 
air.  Buildings  and  gardens,  arranged  in  perfect 
symmetry,  delighted  the  eye.  The  song  of  birds  and 
the  hum  of  evening  melodies  charmed  the  ear.  Men, 
women  and  children  and  vehicles  of  all  kinds  were 
continually  passing. 

The  shades  of  night  crept  over  the  landscape; 
still  the  cloudy  covering  of  the  city  glowed  with 
brilliant  light.  The  darker  the  night  became,  the 
brighter  became  the  cloud,  until  the  palace,  built  of 
marble  and  precious  stone,  appeared  in  its  soft,  clear 
light  like  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 

"Your  majesty,  must  we  not  soon  seek  some 
place  to  rest  for  the  night?" 

"Yes,  you  are  right.  Do  you  think  anyone  will 
suspect  our  true  character?" 

"No  one  save  ourselves,  within  thousands  of 
miles,  knows  that  you  are  the  king  of  Poland." 

"I  do  hope  so,  Remand,  for  I  wish  to  see  these 
things  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  commoner.  See, 
there  is  the  pillar  of  fire  spoken  about.  Truly,  my 
good  friend,  the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  risen  upon  this 
place." 

Hardly  were  the  words  spoken  before  the  car 
riage  drew  up  to  a  gateway,  or  open  arch,  which 
spanned  the  road.  A  man  appeared  and  inquired 
of  the  travelers  where  they  were  going.  On  being 
informed  that  they  were  strangers  come  to  see  the 


176  ADDED  UPON 

city,  the  man  bade  them  wait  a  few  minutes.  Soon 
he  returned. 

"As  you  are  strangers  and  wish  to  rest  for  the 
night,  you  will  please  alight  and  receive  that  which 
you  need.  Your  horses  will  be  taken  care  of.  Come." 
They  drove  along  a  road  leading  to  a  large  house. 
Grooms  took  charge  of  the  horses,  and  they  them 
selves  were  ushered  into  a  room,  which,  for  con 
venience  and  beauty  of  finish,  was  not  surpassed 
even  by  the  king  of  Poland's  own  palaces.  Soon 
fruits  and  bread  were  placed  before  them,  and  they 
were  shown  couches  where  they  would  rest  for  the 
night. 

Though  weary  with  their  day's  journey,  the 
travelers  could  not  sleep.  The  strangeness  of  it  all 
bewildered  them,  and  they  talked  about  it  far  into 
the  night. 

Next  morning  they  were  awakened  by  song 
birds  that  had  taken  position  in  a  tree  near  their 
open  window,  and  were  now  pouring  forth  a  chorus 
of  welcome.  How  beautiful  was  the  morning!  Earth 
and  sky  were  full  of  the  perfume  of  flowers  and  the 
song  of  birds.  The  cloud  still  hung  over  the  city. 

From  the  garden  they  were  called  into  the  din 
ing  room,  where  a  meal  was  spread  before  them. 
Fruits  and  fruit  preparations  of  a  dozen  kinds; 
breads,  cakes  and  vegetables,  drinks  from  the  juice 
of  fruits:  this  was  the  bill  of  fare. 

After  they  had  eaten,  the  person  who  had  met 
them  the  evening  before,  entered,  and  announced 
that  their  carriage  was  ready  for  their  drive;  or, 
if  they  chose  to  take  the  cars,  they  would  get  within 


ADDED  UPON  177 

the  city  much  quicker,  but,  of  course,  would  miss 
some  interesting  sights. 

"We  prefer  to  see  all,"  replied  the  king. 

"Then  come  with  me." 

The  king  and  Remand  followed  into  another 
room  where  they  met  a  young  man  who  was  to  be 
their  escort.  The  first  now  retired,  and  the  young 
man  advanced  and  shook  their  hands. 

"Be  seated  for  a  moment,"  said  he.  "My  name 
is  Paulus.  I  am  to  conduct  you  into  the  city,  and 
be  your  guide  for  the  day.  Such  is  the  rule  here." 
The  speaker  also  took  a  seat  by  the  table.  The  king 
and  his  companion  sat  opposite. 

"In  this  city,"  continued  Paulus,  "there  can  be 
no  hypocrisy,  no  deceit  of  any  kind.  I  am  instructed, 
therefore,  to  tell  you  that  your  true  name,  charac 
ter,  and  mission  is  known.  You  are  the  king  of 
Poland,  and  you  his  counselor  and  friend." 

The  king  started,  changed  color,  and  looked  to 
wards  Remand. 

"How — how  is  that?"  he  stammered. 

Paulus  smiled.  "Do  not  be  alarmed,  my  dear 
sir.  You  were  known  before  you  entered  the  first 
gate  yesterday.  These  people  have  entertained  you 
with  a  full  knowledge  of  what  you  are;  neverthe 
less,  the  treatment  you  have  received  has  been  in 
no  wise  different  from  that  which  is  given  to  every 
honest  man  who  comes  to  this  city  for  righteous 
purposes,  no  matter  be  he  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor, 
in  the  estimation  of  the  world.  You  see,  true  worth 
and  righteousness  are  the  only  standards  of  judg 
ment  here.  Again,  you  are  safer  here  than  in  the 


178  ADDED  UPON 

house  of  your  best  friend  in  Poland,  or  surrounded 
by  your  old-time  host  of  armed  warriors;  for  vio 
lence  is  no  more  heard  in  this  land,  neither  wasting 
nor  destruction  within  our  borders.  Our  walls  are 
Salvation;  our  gates,  praise;  and  the  inhabitants  of 
this  city  are  all  righteous.  It  is  their  inheritance 
forever,  for  they  are  a  branch  of  the  Lord's  plant 
ing,  the  work  of  His  hands,  wherein  He  is  glorified." 

Neither  of  the  strangers  spoke.  The  words 
seemed  to  thrill  them  into  silence. 

"Come,  then,  let  us  be  going." 

The  carriage  was  awaiting;  but  it  was  not  the 
travelers'  own. 

"No,"  was  Paulus'  answer  to  their  inquiry, 
"your  horses  will  rest.  This  is  our  equipage." 

They  drove  into  the  city. 

"  'Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her; 
tell  the  towers  thereof.  Mark  ye  well  her  bulwarks, 
consider  her  palaces,  that  ye  may  tell  it  to  the  gen 
erations  following,'  "  said  Paulus. 

"You  quote  from  the  writings  of  the  ancient 
Hebrews,"  said  Remand. 

"Yes;  these  'holy  men  of  God  spake  as  they 
were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost,'  "  was  the  answer. 

An  hour's  drive  through  indescribable  grandeur 
brought  them  to  a  gate  in  the  wall  which  sur 
rounded  the  temple,  where  they  alighted.  An  at 
tendant  took  charge  of  the  horses.  Paulus  led  the 
way.  A  word  to  the  keeper  of  the  gate,  and  they 
were  permitted  to  pass.  Surrounding  the  central 
building,  was  a  large  open  space  laid  out  in  walks, 
grass  plats,  ornamental  trees,  and  flowers.  People 


ADDED  UPON  179 

were  walking  about.  Guides  and  instructors  were 
busy  with  strangers,  who  seemed  to  have  come  from 
all  nations,  by  the  varied  manner  of  dress  displayed, 
and  the  different  languages  spoken. 

"This,"  said  Paulus,  "is  the  sanctuary  of  free 
dom,  the  place  of  the  great  King.  From  this  center 
go  the  righteous  laws  that  govern  nations  and 
peoples.  It  is  not  time  yet  to  proceed  further,  so 
we  will  walk  about  the  gardens." 

"Is  the  great  King  here  today?"  asked  Poland's 
ruler. 

"I  do  not  know;  but  the  council  will  sit  and 
transact  all  needed  business.  And  now  I  will  tell 
you  another  thing:  All  whom  you  have  met  or  seen 
have  appeared  to  you  as  mortal  beings,  as  you  or  I; 
but  in  reality,  in  our  drive  through  the  city,  you 
have  seen  many  immortal,  that  is,  resurrected,  men 
and  women;  for  you  must  remember  that  now  the 
righteous  live  to  the  age  of  a  tree,  and  when  they 
die,  they  do  not  sleep  in  the  dust,  but  are  changed 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  These  visit  with  us, 
abide  with  us  for  a  time  to  instruct  us.  Because  you 
are  a  ruler  among  the  nations,  you  will  be  permitted 
to  see  the  assembling  of  the  council,  and  receive  in 
struction  from  it.  The  time  is  drawing  nigh.  Let 
us  be  going." 

Great  crowds  of  white-robed  men  were  flocking 
into  the  temple.  The  three  followed.  The  king  and 
Remand  gazed  in  wonder  at  those  who  had  been 
pointed  out  as  being  resurrected  beings,  and  their 
wonder  increased  when  they  could  see  no  marked 
difference  between  them  and  the  rest  of  mankind, 


180  ADDED  UPON 

save  perhaps  in  the  calm,  sweet  expression  of  the 
face,  and  the  light  which  appeared  to  beam  from 
the  countenances  of  the  immortals.  They  certainly 
were  not  unreal,  shadowy  beings. 

Entering  a  wide  hallway,  they  soon  arrived  at 
the  council  chamber.  Its  glory  dazzled  the  behold 
ers.  In  the  midst  of  this  room  was  a  vast  throne 
as  white  as  ivory,  and  ascended  by  seventy  steps. 
On  each  side  of  the  throne  were  tiers  of  seats,  rising 
one  above  the  other.  The  seats  were  rapidly  being 
filled,  but  the  throne  remained  vacant. 

"The  King  is  not  here  today,"  whispered  Paulus. 

Then  a  soft,  sweet  strain  of  music  was  heard. 
It  increased  in  volume  until  a  thousand  instruments 
seemed  to  blend  into  one  melody.  Suddenly,  the 
vast  assembly  arose  as  one  man  and  joined  in  a  song 
of  joy  and  thanksgiving. 

"Guide — dear  friend,"  whispered  the  king  of 
Poland,  "I  am  overcome,  I  cannot  remain." 

"I  feel  faint,"  said  Remand,  "I  fear  I  shall  per 
ish." 

"Come,  then,  we  had  better  go,"  answered 
Paulus.  "This  is  all  we  shall  see  at  present.  We 
shall  now  go  into  another  room  and  wait  the  coun 
cil's  adjournment;  then  you  will  have  an  interview 
with  one  delegated  to  talk  with  you." 

From  the  hallway  they  entered  a  smaller  room, 
decorated  with  beautiful  pictures  and  adorned  with 
statuary.  Books,  newspapers  and  magazines  were 
at  hand,  and  when  the  visitors  were  tired  of  gazing, 
they  sat  down  by  a  table. 

Theyjiad  not  long  to  wait  before  word  came 


ADDED  UPON  181 

that  the  king  and  his  friends  should  enter  another 
room  close  by.  Paulus  would  wait  for  their  return. 
The  two  found  a  venerable  looking  man  awaiting 
them,  who,  upon  their  entrance,  arose  and  said: 

"Welcome,  welcome,  to  the  Lord's  house.  I 
may  not  call  you  king  of  Poland — there  is  but  one 
King  on  this  earth — but  I  will  call  you  servants  of 
the  King,  as  we  all  are.  Be  seated. 

"I  am  instructed  to  tell  you  that,  as  a  whole, 
the  King  is  pleased  with  the  manner  you  are  con 
ducting  your  stewardship.  The  Spirit  of  our  Lord 
moved  upon  you  to  take  this  journey  to  his  capital, 
and  you  chose  to  come  as  you  did.  That  is  well 
enough.  Tyrants  do  not  enter  this  city,  and  your 
presence  here  is  assurance  to  you  that  you  are  jus 
tified. 

"It  is  well  that  you  have  disbanded  your  armies, 
and  that  your  instruments  of  war  have  been  made 
into  plows  and  pruning  hooks.  Remember  the  law 
that  the  nation  and  kingdom  that  will  not  serve  the 
Lord  shall  perish.  The  King  grants  to  all  His  sub 
jects  their  free  agency  in  the  matter  of  religion, 
forcing  no  one  to  obey  the  gospel  law;  still  He  is 
the  King  of  the  earth;  it  is  His,  and  He  made  it,  and 
has  redeemed  it;  and  He  now  wills  that  all  nations 
shall  come  under  one  government  organized  by  Him 
in  righteousness.  For  a  thousand  years  the  earth 
must  rest  in  peace;  then  comes  the  great  and  dread 
ful  day  of  the  Lord. 

"And  now,  another  thing.  There  have  been 
some  complaints  from  your  country  that  the  ser 
vants  of  the  Lord  who  have  been  sent  to  preach  the 


182  ADDED  UPON 

gospel  to  your  people,  have  not  had  that  perfect 
freedom  which  is  desired.  Please  see  to  it  that  they 
are  not  molested  while  peaceably  promulgating  re 
ligious  doctrines." 

"I  shall  see  to  it,"  answered  the  king  of  Poland. 

For  some  time  they  counseled  together;  then 
the  two  withdrew,  and  joined  Paulus,  who  conducted 
them  out  into  the  city. 


II. 


"The  wolf  also  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the  leopard 
shall  lie  down  with  the  kid;  *  *  *  and  a  little  child  shall  lead 
them.  They  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all  my  holy  mountain 
for  the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  as  the 
waters  cover  the  sea." — Isaiah  11:6-9. 

The  next  day  Paulus  with  his  two  visitors  walk 
ed  about  the  city.  He  described  and  explained  the 
many  deeply  interesting  scenes,  and  answered  the 
numerous  questions  directed  to  him.  The  for 
eigners  did  not  fail  to  note  the  wonderful  advances 
made  in  the  arts  and  sciences  and  their  practical 
application  to  everyday  affairs.  They  had  thought 
their  own  country  not  behind  in  improvements,  but 
here  there  own  were  far  surpassed. 

"We  will  ride  out  on  the  ether-line  to  one  of 
our  schools,"  remarked  Paulus.  "You  will  be 
pleased  with  the  children." 

"This  is  an  improvement  on  electricity,"  said 
their  director,  as  seated  in  an  elegant  car,  they  were 
carried  through  the  city  without  noise  or  jostle. 


ADDED  UPON  183 

"This  line  is  rather  crude  yet.  I  was  reading  in  the 
newspaper  the  other  day  that  some  very  important 
improvements  were  shortly  to  be  made.  You  have 
noticed,  ere  this,  our  method  of  heating  and  light 
ing.  Don't  you  think  it  is  an  advancement  on  the 
old  way?" 

"It  certainly  is,  though  we  use  some  steam  and 
considerable  electricity  yet  in  our  country." 

"I  suppose  so — but  here  we  are." 

Although  nothing  in  the  city  was  cramped  or 
crowded  for  room,  the  place  where  they  now  alighted 
was  planned  on  an  unusually  large  scale.  Immense 
buildings  stood  upon  a  large  tract  of  land,  planted 
with  trees,  grass,  and  flowers.  Here  were  breathing 
room  and  playground.  A  number  of  streams  of  clear 
water  flowed  through  the  grounds,  and  small  ponds 
were  alive  with  fish  and  swimming  birds.  Foun 
tains  played,  and  statues  of  marble  gleamed  through 
the  foliage. 

"See,  what  is  that?"  exclaimed  Remand,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  a  huge,  shaggy  beast  lying  under  a 
tree. 

"Just  a  brown  bear,"  said  Paulus.  "We  have 
some  lions  and  few  of  the  rarest  animals  on  these 
grounds — but  I  am  forgetting  that  these  scenes  must 
be  strange  to  you.  In  Poland  you  have  not  wholly 
shaken  off  the  old  world  and  its  way.  It  takes 
time  of  course." 

"Well,"  replied  Remand,  "although  the  enmity 
between  man  and  beast  is  nearly  gone,  we  have  not 
yet  adopted  bears  and  lions  as  pets  for  our  children 
to  play  with." 


184  ADDED  UPON 

"Well,  we  have,  you  perceive." 

A  bevy  of  children  came  dancing  through  the 
grounds.  Beautiful  children  they  were,  full  of  life 
and  gladness.  They  caught  sight  of  bruin,  stretched 
under  the  tree,  and  with  a  shout  they  stormed  him. 
The  animal  saw  them  coming,  and  extending  himself 
at  full  length  on  the  ground,  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
children's  tumbling  over  his  shaggy  sides.  When 
they  patted  him  on  the  head  and  stroked  his  nose, 
he  licked  their  hands. 

"We  haven't  reached  quite  that  far,"  remarked 
the  king. 

"Neither  do  we  behold  such  sights,"  added  his 
companion,  as  he  pointed  to  a  tiger  crouching  on 
the  grass,  and  gazing  with  no  evil  intention  at  a 
lamb  quietly  feeding  by. 

"You  will  in  time,"  said  Paulus.  "The  earth 
is  being  filled  with  the  knowledge  of  God.  Hate, 
envy,  and  destruction  are  fast  disappearing,  and 
you  see  the  natural  results :  the  wolf  lying  down  with 
the  lamb,  and  children  playing  with  once  savage 
beasts.  In  this  way,  Satan  is  being  bound,  and 
the  whole  earth  will  soon  be  released  from  his 
power." 

They  came  to  another  group  of  children,  gath 
ered  on  the  shore  of  a  small  lake,  who  were  eagerly 
listening  to  a  man  in  their  midst. 

"We  will  hear  what  the  lesson  is  today,"  said 
Paulus,  and  they  went  up  to  the  group.  The  in 
structor  was  holding  up  a  flower  which  he  had 
plucked  from  the  margin  of  the  water,  and  was 


ADDED  UPON  185 

illustrating  some  peculiarity  of  vegetable  formation 
to  the  class. 

"It  is  botany  today,"  said  Paulus.  "I  hoped 
that  it  would  be  his  favorite  theme." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"The  improvements  on  these  grounds  are  the 
work  of  his  planning  and  supervision,  and  he  de 
lights  to  give  lessons  on  earth  and  water  forma 
tions.  He  often  sets  a  class  to  digging  trenches  and 
waterways.  He  says  that  he  learned  all  about  such 
things  when  he  went  to  school,  meaning  when  he 
was  on  the  earth  before." 

"Is  he  a  resurrected  being?"  asked  Remand  in 
a  low  voice. 

"He  is,"  was  the  reply.  "Many  of  our  instruct 
ors  are.  You  will  understand  without  argument 
the  advantages  they  have  over  others." 

"Certainly,  certainly." 

"I  see  he  is  through  with  the  recitation.  Let 
us  speak  to  him." 

As  they  came  up,  the  children  recognized  them 
with  a  smile  and  a  salute,  and  the  instructor  said: 

"Welcome,  brothers,  welcome,  Brother  Paulus." 

"You  are  dismissed.  Go  to  your  next  lesson," 
he  said  to  the  children,  and  they  quietly  walked 
away. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "I  have  some  leisure.  Will  you 
all  come  with  me  into  the  reading  room?  I  have 
something  to  show  you,  Paulus,  and  it  may  interest 
our  visitors." 

"Need  we  no  introduction?"  asked  the  king,  as 
they  followed  into  a  large  building. 


186  ADDED  UPON 

"Not  at  all.    He  knows  who  you  are." 

The  reading  room  was  a  compartment  beauti 
fully  adorned  and  furnished.  It  was  filled  with 
tables,  chairs,  bookracks,  etc.  Hundreds  of  children 
were  there  reading.  Perfect  order  reigned,  though 
no  overseers  or  watchers  were  seen.  The  three  fol 
lowed  the  instructor  into  a  smaller  room,  seemingly 
arranged  for  private  use.  Chairs  were  placed,  and 
then  he  opened  a  newspaper  which  he  spread  on  the 
table. 

"Have  you  seen  the  last  edition  of  today's  pa 
per?" 

None  of  them  had. 

"Well,  I  found  something  here  of  more  than 
usual  interest.  It  seems  that  some  workmen,  ex 
cavating  for  a  building,  came  across  the  ruins  of  a 
nineteenth  century  city.  In  a  cavity  in  a  stone  they 
found  some  coins  of  that  period,  also  a  number  of 
newspapers.  It  was  a  common  practice  in  those 
days  to  imbed  such  things  in  the  corner  stones  of 
buildings.  Extracts  from  those  papers  are  repro 
duced  here,  and  they  are  of  interest  to  the  children 
of  today  in  showing  the  condition  of  the  world  when 
under  the  influence  of  that  fallen  spirit  who  rebelled 
against  God  in  the  beginning.  Let  me  read  you  a 
few  extracts,  principally  headings  only." 

"  'Yesterday  this  city  was  visited  by  a  most 
destructive  fire.  One-half  of  the  business  part  was 
swept  away.  Thousands  of  dollars  of  property  were 
lost,  and  it  is  supposed  that  about  fifty  persons  have 
perished  in  the  flames.' 

"  'The  great  strike.     Thousands  of  workmen 


ADDED  UPON  187 

out   of  employment.     Children   crying  for  bread 
Mobs  march  through  the  streets,  defying  the  police, 
and  demolishing  property.     The  governor  calls  out 
the  state  militia.' 

'Here  is  another: 

"  'War!  War!  England,  Germany,  France, 
Russia  and  the  United  States  are  preparing!' 

"Yes,  you  have  read  your  histories.  You  know 
all  about  that.  What  do  you  think  of  this?" 

"  'Millions  of  the  people's  money  have  been  ex 
pended  by  those  in  office  to  purchase  votes.  A  set 
of  corrupt  political  bosses  rule  the  nation.' 

"Still  another: 

"  'A  gang  of  tramps  capture  a  train — '  ' 

The  reader  did  not  finish,  but  laid  the  paper 
down  and  looked  out  of  the  open  door.  He  did  not 
speak  for  some  time;  then  turning,  said: 

"Brothers,  thank  God  that  you  live  in  the  Mil 
lennium  of  the  world.  My  heart  grows  sick  when  my 
mind  reverts  back  to  the  scenes  of  long  ago.  I 
passed  through  some  of  them.  I  learned  my  les 
sons  in  a  hard  school;  but  God  has  been  good  to 
me.  He  has  known  me  all  along,  and  has  given  me 
just  what  I  needed.  Shall  we  visit  the  buildings? 
Shall  we  see  the  children  who  grow  up  without  sin 
unto  salvation?  Come  with  me." 

From  room  to  room,  from  building  to  building, 
they  went.  Children,  children,  everywhere — bright, 
beautiful  children.  Oh,  it  was  a  grand  sight!  Hark! 
They  sing — a  thousand  voices;  and  such  music! 

"Are  there  special  visitors  today?"  asked 
Paulus. 


188  ADDED  UPON 

"Yes;  come  let  us  go  outside  and  see  them." 

They  stepped  out  on  to  a  portico  where  they 
could  see  the  throng  of  children  standing  on  a  large 
lawn  outside.  They  were  singing  a  song  of  wel 
come,  and  through  the  trees  could  be  seen  three  men 
approaching.  The  children  made  way  for  them, 
and  they  walked  through  towards  the  building. 

"Look  well  at  them  as  they  pass,"  said  the  in 
structor;  "you  may  recognize  them." 

They  walked  with  the  sprightliness  of  youth 
though  their  hair  was  white  as  snow.  They  smiled 
at  the  children  as  they  passed. 

"Two  of  the  faces  are  familiar,"  remarked 
Remand,  "but  the  third  is  strange.  Surely,  sure 
ly—" 

"Surely  you  did  not  expect  to  see  George  Wash 
ington  and  Martin  Luther  in  the  flesh,  walking  and 
talking  as  other  men?" 

"Never." 

"It  is  they." 

"And  the  third?" 

"The  third  is  Socrates  of  old." 

"What  is  their  mission?" 

"They  are  about  to  speak  to  the  children.  They 
have  been  at  the  school  of  the  prophets  all  morning, 
and  now  they  come  from  the  high  school  yonder. 
You  see  what  advantages  today's  students  of  history 
have." 

"Has  the  knowledge  of  God  exalted  men  to  the 
society  of  resurrected  beings?" 

"Your  senses  do  not  deceive  you,"  was  the  reply. 


ADDED  UPON  189 

"Now  I  must  go,"  said  the  instructor.  "Fare 
well,  and  peace  be  with  you." 

He  went  into  the  house  again,  the  three  follow 
ing  directly,  but  they  saw  nothing  more  of  him. 

III. 

"Every  beast  of  the  forest  is  mine,  and  the  cattle  upon  a 
thousand  hills  *  *  *  for  the  world  is  mine,  and  the  fulness 
thereof."— Psalms  50:10,  12. 

The  King  of  Poland  and  his  counselor  lodged 
that  night  in  the  city.  Early  next  morning,  Paulus 
came  again  for  them. 

"What  do  you  wish  to  see,  today?"  he  asked. 

"Take  us  to  some  of  your  workshops  and  mills," 
replied  the  King;  "we  would  like  to  learn  more  of 
your  social  and  industrial  conditions,  about  which 
we  have  heard." 

A  car  soon  took  them  to  a  part  of  the  city  where 
the  workshops  were  situated.  The  buildings  were 
not  great,  black-looking  structures  with  rows  of 
small  windows  in  the  walls;  but  they  were  handsome, 
spacious  buildings,  resembling  somewhat  the  fin 
est  of  the  public  buildings  with  which  the  visitors 
were  acquainted  in  their  own  country.  Remand 
noted  the  absence  of  smoking  chimneys,  and  inquired 
about  them. 

"We  have  done  away  with  all  that,"  explained 
Paulus.  "Pure  air  is  one  of  the  essentials  to  life. 
One  of  the  crudest  imperfections  of  the  past  was 
the  wilderness  of  smoking  chimneys  which  belched 
forth  their  blackness  and  poison  into  the  atmosphere. 


190  ADDED  UPON 

As  you  have  noticed,  our  city  is  clean,  and  the  air 
above  us  is  as  clear  as  that  above  forests  or  fields." 

"I  suppose  you  use  electricity  for  light  and 
power,"  remarked  Remand;  "but  you  need  heat, 
too." 

"We  use  electricity  for  heat  also,"  was  ex 
plained.  "We  get  it  direct  from  the  earth,  also  have 
it  generated  by  water  power,  both  from  falls  and 
the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  transmitted  to  us.  Some 
of  these  power  stations  are  hundreds  of  miles  away 
among  the  mountains,  and  by  the  sea.  We  have  also 
learned  to  collect  and  conserve  heat  from  the  sun; 
so,  you  see,  we  are  well  supplied  for  all  purposes. 
This  building,"  said  the  instructor,  pointing  to  the 
one  in  front  of  which  they  had  stopped,  "is  a  fur 
niture  factory.  Would  you  like  to  see  it  in  working 
operation?" 

"Yes;  very  much,"  said  the  King. 

They  entered  clean,  well-lighted,  airy  rooms 
where  beautiful  machinery  was  being  operated  by 
well-dressed  and  happy-looking  workmen.  The  vis 
itors  passed  from  section  to  section,  noting,  admir 
ing,  and  asking  questions. 

"Whose  factory  is  this?"  asked  Remand  of  the 
guide. 

"You  mean  who  has  charge — who  is  the  stew 
ard?"  corrected  Paulus. 

"No;  not  exactly  that.  This  magnificent  plant 
must  have  an  owner,  either  an  individual  or  a  cor 
poration.  I  asked  for  the  ownership  of  the  prop 
erty." 

The  guide  looked  strangely  at  his  companions. 


ADDED  UPON  191 

Then  he  realized  that  these  men  had  come  from  the 
parts  of  the  earth  where  the  celestial  order  had  not 
yet  been  established.  The  old  ideas  of  private  prop 
erty  rights  were  still  with  them. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "The  earth  is  the  Lord's, 
and  the  fulness  thereof.  He  is  the  only  proprietor. 
How  can  weak,  mortal  man  own  any  part  of  this 
earth!  No,  ownership  is  for  a  future  time,  a  future 
state.  Now  we  are  only  stewards  over  the  Lord's 
possession." 

"But  someone  must  have  charge  here,"  said  the 
king. 

"Certainly.  A  master  mechanic  is  steward  over 
this  factory,  and  he  renders  an  account  of  all  its 
doings  to  the  Bishop,  who  is  the  Lord's  representa 
tive.  In  this  building,  as  you  have  seen,  are  many 
departments,  and  these  are  also  stewardships,  given 
to  those  in  whose  charge  they  are.  Likewise,  each 
workman  has  a  stewardship  for  which  he  is  re 
sponsible  and  accountable  to  the  Lord." 

They  came  to  the  wood-carving  department 
where  beautiful  designs  were  being  drawn  and  exe 
cuted. 

"Each  man,  as  far  as  possible,  does  the  kind 
of  work  best  suited  to  his  tastes  and  abilities.  Here, 
for  instance,  those  who  are  skilled  carvers  of  wood 
find  employment  for  their  talent,  and  they  turn  out 
some  fine  articles  of  furniture  Of  course,  we  have 
machines  that  stamp  and  carve  wood;  but  the  pleas 
ure  derived  from  the  use  of  the  skilled  hand  is  not 
to  be  denied  the  well-trained  mechanic  and  artist." 

"I  don't  quite  understand  what  you  mean  by 

13 


192  ADDED  UPON 

stewardships,"  said  Remand  as  they  passed  into  a 
rest  room. 

"Let  us  sit  down  here,"  replied  Paulus,  "and  I 
shall  try  to  explain  further.  You  must  know  that 
all  this  order,  beauty,  peace,  and  plenty  has  been 
attained  by  an  observance  of  celestial  law.  And  the 
celestial  law  as  pertaining  to  temporal  things  is  that 
no  man  shall  have  more  than  is  required  for  his  and 
his  family's  support.  In  this  respect  all  men  are 
equal  according  to  their  needs.  In  olden  times,  this 
law  was  called  the  order  of  Enoch,  because  we  are 
informed  that  Enoch  and  his  city  attained  to  a  high 
degree  of  righteousness  through  its  observance. 
Later  it  was  called  the  United  Order.  It  has  been 
revealed  to  and  tried  by  men  in  various  periods  of 
the  earth's  history,  but  never  has  it  had  such  a 
chance  to  redeem  the  world  as  it  is  having  now. 
According  to  this  law,  no  man  can  accumulate  unto 
himself  the  wealth  created  by  the  work  of  others, 
as  was  the  case  is  former  times  with  us,  and  still 
prevails  to  some  extent  among  other  nations.  All 
surplus  which  a  worker  accumulates  beyond  his 
needs  is  turned  into  the  general  storehouse  of  the 
Lord.  Thus  each  man  becomes  equal  in  temporal 
things  as  well  as  in  spiritual  things.  There  is  no 
rich  or  poor:  each  man  obtains  what  he  requires, 
and  no  more." 

"What  is  the  extent  of  this  surplus?"  asked  the 
King.  "Is  it  large?" 

"Yes;  because  of  the  nearly  perfect  condition 
of  our  industrial  system,  a  great  amount  of  wealth 
flows  into  the  general  storehouse.  You  will  under- 


ADDED  UPON  193 

stand,  of  course,  that  all  public  institutions  receive 
their  support  from  this  fund,  so  that  the  old  order 
of  taxes  is  done  away  with.  You  have  noticed  our 
beautiful  city.  You  have  not  seen  palaces  of  the 
rich  and  hovels  of  the  poor,  but  you  have  seen  mag 
nificent  public  buildings,  parks,  and  thoroughfares. 
These  institutions  that  are  for  all  alike  have  been 
built  and  are  sustained  by  the  surplus;  and  this  city 
does  not  represent  all  of  what  the  people  of  the  Lord 
are  doing.  The  Lord's  work  is  being  extended 
throughout  this  land  and  to  lands  beyond  the  sea. 
Not  the  least  of  our  duties  is  the  building  of  tem 
ples  and  the  performing  of  the  work  for  our  dead 
in  them.  So  you  see,  we  have  need  of  much  wealth 
to  carry  on  our  work." 

"Yes;  I  understand,"  remarked  Remand;  "but 
in  our  country  and  time,  as  indeed,  it  has  been  in 
the  past,  many  have  tried  plans  of  equality,  but  they 
have  been  more  or  less  failures.  Why  have  you  suc 
ceeded  so  well?" 

"The  chief  cause  for  the  past  failures  of  the 
world  in  this  industrial  order  lies  in  the  supposition 
that  unregenerated  men,  who  have  not  obeyed  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  who  are,  therefore,  full 
of  weaknesses  and  sins  incident  to  human  nature 
without  the  power  to  overcome  them — I  say  the  mis 
take  lies  in  the  supposition  that  such  men  can  come 
together  and  establish  a  celestial  order  of  things, 
an  order  wherein  the  heart  must  be  purged  from 
every  selfish  thought  and  desire.  No  wonder  that 
a  building  erected  on  such  a  poor  foundation  could 
not  stand.  We  have  succeeded  because  we  have 


194  ADDED  UPON 

begun  right.  We  have  had  faith  in  the  Lord  and 
His  providences,  have  repented  of  our  sins,  have 
been  born  again  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  and 
then  we  have  tried  to  live  by  every  word  that  pro 
ceeds  from  the  mouth  of  God.  We  have  done 
this  pretty  well,  or  we  could  never  have  succeeded 
in  this  work  of  equality  that  you  see  and  admire. 
People  who  do  the  things  that  you  observe  around 
you  must  have  the  Spirit  of  God  in  their  hearts. 
This  celestial  order  is  God's  order,  and  those  who 
partake  of  its  blessings  must  be  in  harmony  with 
God's  mind  and  will.  High  law  cannot  be  obeyed 
and  lived  by  inferior  beings  who  are  not  willing  to 
submit  to  the  first  principles  of  salvation  and  power." 

The  three  sat  in  quiet  contemplation  for  a  time. 
Then  the  King  said:  "Tell  us  about  the  wages  of 
these  workmen.  The  proper  adjustment  of  wages 
has  always  been  a  source  of  much  trouble  with  us." 

"Yes,  in  the  days  when  every  man  had  to  look 
out  for  himself  and  had  no  thought  for  his  neighbor, 
it  was  a  continual  struggle  to  get  as  much  as  possible 
for  one's  work  and  to  give  as  little  as  possible  for 
the  work  of  another.  Such  conditions  were  natural 
under  a  system  of  greed  and  selfishness,  and  they 
brought  on  much  contention  and  trouble,  which, 
happily  are  now  ended.  In  the  beginning,"  ex 
plained  the  speaker,  "those  who  enter  this  order  of 
equality  are  required  to  consecrate  all  their  property 
to  the  Lord.  Then  each  is  given  a  stewardship 
according  to  his  needs  and  his  ability  to  manage  and 
to  work.  Children  have  a  claim  upon  their  parents 


ADDED  UPON  195 

for  support  until  they  are  of  age,  when  they  also 
are  given  a  stewardship." 

"Are  the  wages  equal  to  all?" 

"No;  and  for  the  very  good  reason  that  the 
needs  of  all  are  not  alike.  According  to  the  old 
order,  the  superintendent  of  these  works,  for  in 
stance,  would  draw  a  salary  of  perhaps  $5000.00  a 
year,  while  the  men  who  do  the  manual  labor  would 
get  less  than  a  tenth  of  that  sum." 

"True,"  remarked  Remand,  "supply  and  de 
mand  regulates  these  things.  Superintendents  are 
scarce,  but  common  workmen  are  plentiful." 

"But,  my  dear  friend,  we  have  no  common 
workmen.  It  is  just  as  important  that  a  table  should 
be  put  together  properly,  and  that  it  be  well  fin 
ished  as  that  there  should  be  a  superintendent  of 
the  works.  No  man  in  our  industrial  system  can 
say  to  another,  'I  have  no  need  of  thee.'  Each  is 
important,  each  has  his  place,  each  supports  the 
other.  The  polisher  or  the  sawyer,  therefore, 
should  have  his  needs  supplied,  and  so  should  the 
overseer — but  no  more.  What  would  he  do  with 
more,  anyway?  Tell  me." 

"Why,  why,"  replied  Remand,  "He  could  save 
it,  put  it  in  the  bank,  invest  it." 

Paulus  smiled.  "What  good  would  hoarded 
wealth  be  to  a  man  whose  needs  are  all  provided 
for  as  long  as  he  lives,  as  also  his  children  after  him. 
We  have  but  one  bank  here — the  Lord's  storehouse, 
and  all  profits  derived  from  investments  are  there 
deposited.  But  speaking  again  of  wages,  I  happen 
to  know  that  the  superintendent  of  this  factory  is  a 


196  ADDED  UPON 

man  with  a  wife  only  to  support,  and  they  are  very 
simple  in  their  tastes.  The  wood-carver  whom  we 
spoke  of  has  a  large  family  of  children.  His  needs 
are  greater  than  the  superintendent's,  therefore  he 
receives  more  for  his  portion.  That  is  just,  is  it 
not?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Remand,"  the  theory  seems  to 
be  all  right  but  its  application,  among  us  at  least, 
would  bring  endless  complications  to  be  adjusted." 

"Perhaps  so,"  replied  Paulus.  "We  are  not  per 
fect,  even  here.  While  we  are  in  mortality,  we  have 
weaknesses  to  contend  with;  but  you  must  remem 
ber  that  we  look  on  every  man  as  a  brother  and  a 
friend,  and  as  I  have  stated,  we  have  the  spirit  of 
the  Master  to  help  us.  When  this  help  proves  in 
sufficient  by  reason  of  our  own  failure  to  do  the 
right,  and  in  our  weakness  we  are  unjust  or  over 
bearing,  or  oppressive,  then  there  is  the  Lord  Him 
self  whose  throne  is  with  us.  He  balances  again  the 
scales  of  justice,  and  metes  out  to  every  man  his 
just  deserts." 

Paulus  arose,  and  the  others  followed  him  rev 
erently  out  into  the  park-like  space  surrounding  the 
factory.  They  walked  slowly  along  the  paths  as 
they  talked. 

"The  argument  usually  urged  against  all  orders 
of  equality,"  remarked  Remand,  "is  that  it  takes 
away  man's  incentive  to  work." 

"Have  you  seen  any  idle  men  in  or  about  Zion?" 
asked  the  guide. 

They  acknowledged  that  they  had  not. 

"The  new  order  has  not  taken  away  incentives 


ADDED  UPON  197 

to  work;  it  has  simply  changed  the  incentive  from 
a  low  order  to  a  higher.  We  can  not  afford  to  work 
for  money  as  an  end.  Wealth,  with  us,  is  simply  a 
means  to  an  end,  and  that  is  the  bringing  to  pass  of 
saving  righteousness  to  the  race,  individually  and 
collectively.  Wealth  is  not  created  to  be  used  for 
personal  aggrandizement;  and,  in  fact,  its  power  to 
work  mischief  is  taken  away  when  all  men  have 
what  they  need  of  it.  The  attainment  of  worldly 
wealth  was  at  one  time  the  standard  of  success.  It 
was,  indeed,  a  low  standard." 

"What  is  your  standard?"  asked  the  king. 

"Among  us  the  greatest  of  all  is  the  servant  of 
all.  He  who  does  his  best  along  the  line  of  his  work, 
and  contributes  the  results  of  his  efforts  to  the 
general  good,  is  successful.  Quantity  is  not  always 
the  test,  for  the  gardener  who  supplies  us  with  the 
choicest  vegetables  is  counted  just  as  successful 
as  he  who  digs  from  the  mountain  his  thousands  in 
gold.  .  .  .  Who,  in  your  country,  is  counted 
the  greatest  success  in  history?" 

Neither  Remand  nor  the  King  replied  to  this 
query. 

"I  will  not  confuse  you  by  urging  a  reply,"  said 
Paulus.  "You,  of  course,  understand  our  view  of 
that  matter.  He  who  did  the  greatest  good  to  the 
greatest  number  made  the  greatest  success.  That 
was  the  Lord  and  Master.  'If  I  be  lifted  up,  I  shall 
draw  all  men  to  me/  he  said;  and  that  is  being 
fulfilled.  In  like  manner  the  greatest  among  us  is  he 
who  serves  us  best." 

They  seated  themselves  on  a  bench  and  watched 


198  ADDED  UPON 

the  workers  flock  from  the  workshop  homeward  to 
their  mid-day  meal.  It  was  an  interesting  sight  to 
the  two  visitors.  The  people  appeared  so  happy  and 
contented  that  the  king  noticed  it  and  commented  on 
it. 

"Yes,"  replied  Paulus;  "why  should  they  not 
be  happy?  When  I  think  of  the  times  in  the  past — 
how  so  many  of  the  human  race  had  to  struggle  des 
perately  merely  to  live;  how  men,  women  and  child 
ren  often  had  to  beg  for  work  by  which  to  obtain 
the  means  of  existence;  how  sometimes  everything 
that  was  good  and  pure  and  priceless  was  sold  for 
bread;  while  on  the  other  hand  many  others  of  the 
race  lolled  in  ease  and  luxury,  being  surfeited  with 
the  good  things  of  the  world — I  say,  when  I  think 
of  this,  I  can  not  praise  the  Lord  too  much  for  what 
He  now  has  given  to  us." 

"What  are  these  men's  working  hours?"  asked 
Remand. 

"The  hours  vary  according  to  the  arduousness 
of  the  work,  though  it  is  now  much  more  easy  and 
pleasant,  owing  to  our  labor-saving  machinery. 
From  three  to  four  hours  usually  constitute  a  day's 
work.  Some  prefer  to  put  in  their  allotted  time 
every  day,  and  then  spend  the  remainder  in  other 
pursuits.  Others  work  all  day,  perhaps  for  a  week, 
which  would  give  them  a  week  to  do  other  things. 
Others,  again,  who  wish  more  leisure  for  their  self- 
appointed  tasks,  keep  steadily  on  for  a  year,  thus 
earning  a  year  for  themselves." 

"And  what  is  done  with  this  leisure?"  asked  the 
king. 


ADDED  UPON  199 

"Most  of  it  is  devoted  to  working  in  the  tem 
ples  of  the  Lord,  where  the  saving  ordinances  of  the 
gospel  are  performed  for  those  who  had  not  the 
privilege  to  do  them  for  themselves  in  this  life;  but 
many  other  things  are  done.  For  instance,  he  who 
thinks  he  is  an  inventor,  devotes  his  time  to  perfect 
ing  his  invention;  those  who  wish  to  pursue  a  cer 
tain  line  of  study,  now  have  time  to  do  so;  some 
spend  time  in  traveling." 

"Is  there  no  competition  among  you?"  said 
Remand.  "Such  a  condition,  it  seems  to  me,  would 
bring  stagnation." 

"We  have  the  keenest  kind  of  competition,"  was 
the  reply — "a  competition  of  the  highest  order  that 
brings  the  most  joyous  life-activity  into  our  work. 
Each  steward  competes  with  every  other  steward  to 
see  who  can  improve  his  stewardship  the  most  and 
bring  the  best  results  to  the  general  storehouse.  For 
example,  you  noticed  as  you  came  into  the  city  the 
beautifully  kept  gardens  and  farms  lying  for  miles 
out  into  the  country.  These  are  all  stewardships, 
and  there  is  the  keenest  competition  among  the  farm 
ers  and  gardeners  to  see  who  can  make  the  land 
produce — first  the  best  crops,  and  then  the  most  of 
that  best.  One  man  last  year  who  has  a  small  farm 
turned  into  the  storehouse  as  his  surplus  one  thou 
sand  bushels  of  wheat.  It  was  a  remarkable  record 
which  this  year  many  others  are  trying  to  equal  or 
exceed.  This  sort  of  rivalry  is  found  among  all  the 
various  businesses  and  industries  in  Zion  and  her 
stakes;  so  you  see,  that  even  what  you  term  the 
wealth  producing  incentive  is  not  lost  to  us,  but  is 


200  ADDED  UPON 

used  as  an  end  to  a  mighty  good,  and  not  to  foster 
personal  greed." 

The  three  strolled  farther  away  from  the  large 
factory  building,  out  into  a  section  where  residences 
stood  here  and  there  among  the  trees  in  the  park- 
like  grounds.  Approaching  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water 
bordered  by  flowering  bushes,  lawns,  and  well-kept 
walks,  they  saw  a  man  sitting  on  a  bench  by  the  lake. 
As  his  occupation  seemed  to  be  throwing  bread 
crumbs  to  the  swans  in  the  water,  the  King  and  his 
companion  concluded  that  here,  at  last,  they  had  dis 
covered  one  of  the  idle  rich,  whom  they  still  had  in 
their  own  country.  Remand  expressed  his  thought 
to  the  guide. 

"He  idle?"  was  the  reply.  "Oh,  no;  he  is  one 
of  our  hardest  working  men.  That  is  one  of  our 
most  popular  writers,  and  in  many  people's  opinion, 
our  best.  We  must  not  disturb  him  now,  but  we  will 
sit  down  here  and  observe  him.  We  are  told  that 
when  he  is  planning  one  of  his  famous  chapters  of 
a  story,  he  comes  down  to  this  lake  and  feeds  the 
swans." 

"And  do  you  still  write,  print,  and  read  stories?" 
asked  Remand. 

"Certainly.  Imaginative  literature  is  one  of  the 
highest  forms  of  art.  This  man  has  most  beautifully 
pictured  the  trend  of  the  race,  his  special  themes 
being  the  future  greatness  and  glory  of  Zion.  Why 
should  he  not  paint  pictures  by  words,  as  well  as  the 
artist  who  does  the  same  by  colors  and  the  sculptor 
by  form?  If  you  have  not  read  any  of  his  books,  you 


ADDED  UPON  201 

must  take  some  of  them  home  with  you.  See,  he  is 
moving  away.  Would  you  like  to  meet  him?" 

They  said  they  would.  The  author  was  soon 
overtaken,  and  he  received  his  visitors  graciously. 

"Yes,"  he  laughingly  acknowledged  to  Paulus, 
"you  caught  me  fairly.  I  was  planning  a  most  inter 
esting  scene  of  the  book  on  which  I  am  now  engaged, 
and  the  swans  are  a  great  help." 

He  led  his  visitors  into  the  grounds  surrounding 
his  home,  and  then  into  his  house.  He  showed  them 
his  books,  his  studio,  and  his  collection  of  art  treas 
ures.  From  an  upstairs  balcony  he  pointed  out  his 
favorite  bit  of  landscape,  a  mixture  of  hill  and  dale, 
shining  water,  and  purple  haze  in  the  distance. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  an  inquiry,  "I  have 
read  how,  in  former  times,  the  workers  in  art,  and 
especially  the  writer  were  seriously  handicapped. 
The  struggle  for  bread  often  sapped  the  strength 
which  ought  to  have  gone  into  the  producing  of  a 
picture,  a  piece  of  statuary,  or  a  book.  Fear  of  some 
day  wanting  the  necessities  of  life  drove  men  to 
think  of  nothing  else  but  the  making  of  money;  and 
when  sometimes  men  and  women  were  driven  by  the 
strong  impulse  of  expression  to  neglect  somewhat  the 
'Making  a  living/  they  nearly  starved.  How  could 
the  best  work  be  produced  under  such  conditions? 
I  marvel  at  what  was  done,  nevertheless." 

After  spending  a  pleasant  and  profitable  hour 
with  the  writer,  the  three  visitors  went  on  their  way. 
They  partook  of  some  lunch  at  one  of  the  public 
eating  houses,  then  they  went  out  farther  into  the 
country  to  look  at  the  farms  and  gardens.  Lines  of 


202  ADDED  UPON 

easy  and  rapid  transit  extended  in  every  direction, 
so  that  it  took  but  a  few  minutes  for  Paulus  and  his 
friends  to  arrive  at  the  place  they  desired.  They 
alighted  at  an  orchard,  looked  at  the  growing  fruit 
and  listened  to  the  orchardist's  explanations.  After 
they  had  been  left  to  themselves,  Paulus  continued: 

"I  want  you  to  see  and  taste  a  certain  kind  of 
apple  that  this  man  has  produced.  Apples  are  his 
specialty."  He  led  the  way  to  another  part  of  the 
orchard,  and  found  a  number  of  ripening  apples 
which  he  gave  his  friends.  "What  do  you  think  of 
them?"  he  asked. 

"Most  delicious!"  they  both  exclaimed.  "This 
might  be  the  identical  fruit  that  tempted  Eve  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden,"  remarked  Remand. 

As  they  walked  amid  the  trees,  the  conversation 
reverted  again  to  the  writer  of  books  whom  they 
had  just  left. 

"This  author's  royalties  must  be  very  great — " 
began  the  King's  counselor,  and  then  checked  him 
self  when  he  remembered  the  conditions  about  him. 

"Royalties?"  replied  Paulus;  "yes,  they  are 
great;  but  they  are  not  in  money  or  material  wealth. 
They  consist  in  the  vast  amount  of  help,  encourage 
ment,  hope,  and  true  happiness  he  brings  to  his 
readers." 

"But  do  not  men  like  treasure  for  treasure's 
sake?  Have  your  very  natures  changed?"  asked 
the  King. 

"To  some  extent  our  natures  have  changed,  but 
not  altogether  in  this.  Men  and  women  still  like  to 
lay  up  treasures.  It  is  an  inevitable  law  that  when 


ADDED  UPON  203 

men  do  some  good  to  others,  credit  is  given  them  for 
that  good  in  the  Book  of  Life.  This  wealth  of  good 
deeds  may  accumulate  until  one  may  become  a  veri 
table  millionaire;  and  this  treasure  can  never  be 
put  to  an  unrighteous  use;  moth  can  not  corrupt 
it,  nor  thieves  break  through  and  steal." 

"One  more  question/'  asked  Remand.  "I  ob 
served  that  your  novelist  had  a  beautiful  house, 
many  rare  books,  and  some  priceless  paintings  and 
pieces  of  sculptured  marble.  Are  these  among  the 
'needs'  that  you  have  spoken  of  so  many  times?" 

"To  him,  certainly.  Each  man  gets  that  which 
will  aid  him  most  in  his  particular  line  of  work. 
Those  things  are  not  needless  luxuries  or  extrava 
gances.  The  writer  is  surrounded  by  beautiful 
things  that  he  may  be  influenced  by  them  to  produce 
the  most  beautiful  literature,  just  the  same  as  any 
other  laborer  is  provided  with  the  best  tools,  helps, 
and  environments  that  he  may  produce  the  best 
work." 

From  the  orchard  they  went  to  the  gardens  and 
other  workshops,  closing  the  day  with  a  visit  to  one 
of  the  large  mercantile  establishments  of  the  city. 

The  next  morning  Paulus  was  on  hand  again  to 
be  their  guide,  but  the  King  said: 

"We  must  now  return  home.  Much  as  we  would 
like  to  remain — to  take  up  our  permanent  abode 
here,  I  see  that  my  duty  calls  me  home.  The  Great 
King  has  something  for  me  to  do,  and  I  shall  try 
to  do  it.  Let  us  be  going." 

Then  the  two  visitors  thanked  their  guide  most 
graciously  as  he  set  them  on  their  homeward  way. 


204  ADDED  UPON 


IV. 

"In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions.  *  *  *  I  go 
to  prepare  a  place  for  you." — John  14:S. 

Two  men  were  walking  in  the  grounds  sur 
rounding  a  stately  residence  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  city. 

"I  told  you  some  time  ago  of  the  king  of  Po 
land's  visit,"  said  the  one  who  had  been  instructor 
at  the  school.  "Did  you  see  that  item  in  the  paper 
this  morning?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other.  "The  visit  must  have 
made  a  great  impression  on  him,  judging  by  what  he 
is  doing." 

"He  was  much  interested.  He  is  a  good  man, 
and  is  carrying  out  the  instructions  which  he  re 
ceived  while  here.  You  have  not  been  here  before?" 

"No;  this  is  my  first  visit." 

"This  house  is  being  built  for  a  descendant 
of  mine  who  is  yet  in  mortality.  I  visit  with 
him  frequently,  and  he  has  asked  me  for  sug 
gestions  as  to  its  construction.  I  have  had  much 
pleasure  in  giving  them.  Soon  he  is  to  bring  a  wife 
into  his  new  home,  a  dear  good  girl  whom  I  am 
pleased  to  welcome  in  this  way  into  our  family.  The 
workmen  have  nearly  finished  their  labors  and  I  am 
devoting  some  time  to  the  preparation  of  the 
grounds.  Will  you  have  time  to  look  around  with 
me?" 

"I  have  time  today,  brother." 

They  walked  towards  the  house.    It  stood  on  the 


ADDED  UPON  205 

slope  of  a  gentle  elevation  which  furnished  a  view  of 
the  country  westward. 

"Here  you  see  what  I  am  doing.  I  am  depart 
ing  somewhat  from  the  usual  form  of  lawn  plans,  but 
I  want  this  place  to  have  a  special  feature.  You  see, 
I  have  led  this  stream  of  water  around  the  hill-side 
and  made  it  fall  over  this  small  precipice  into  this 
tiny  lake.  What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"It  is  beautiful  and  unique." 

"You  see,  brother,  I  have  a  liking  for  streams 
of  water.  They  always  please  my  eye,  and  their 
babble  and  roar  is  music  to  my  ears.  And  then, 
someone  else  will  soon  be  visiting  with  me  here.  I 
call  this  my  temporary  Earth-home;  and  brother, 
nothing  can  be  too  beautiful  for  my  wife. 

His  companion  looked  at  him  and  smiled.  The 
speaker  smiled  in  return.  They  understood  each  other. 

"Yes,  she  is  coming  soon — at  any  time,  now." 

They  walked  into  the  house  and  inspected  the 
building.  It  was  no  exception  to  the  other  houses  in 
the  city,  as  beautiful  as  gold,  silver,  precious  stones, 
fine  woods,  silks,  and  other  fabrics  could  make  it. 
Most  of  the  rooms  were  furnished,  as  if  in  readiness 
for  occupancy. 

"I  delight  in  statuary,"  was  explained  to  the 
visitor,  "and  my  wife  delights  in  paintings.  You  see, 
I  have  catered  to  both  our  tastes,  and  especially  hers. 
Those  panels  are  the  work  of  the  famous  Rene,  and 
this  ceiling  was  painted  by  the  best  artist  in  the  city. 
Here,  what  do  you  think  of  this?" 

They  paused  before  a  large  painting  hung  in  the 
best  light.  It  showed  traces  of  age,  but  the  colors 


206  ADDED  UPON 

indicated  the  hand  of  a  master.  It  represented  a 
scene  where  grandeur  and  beauty  mingle;  in  the 
distance,  blue  hills;  nearer,  they  became  darker  and 
pine  clad;  in  the  foreground  loomed  a  rocky  ledge; 
encircled  by  the  hills,  lay  a  lake,  around  whose  shores 
were  farms  and  farm  houses  with  red  roofs;  and  in  the 
foreground  of  the  lake  was  an  island. 

"A  fine  picture,"  said  the  visitor,  "and  an  old 
one." 

"It  is  a  scene  in  old-time  Norway,  by  one  of 
Europe's  best  painters.  H^.d  is  another.  This  is 
new,  hardly  dry,  in  fact.  You  observe  that  there 
are  no  pines  on  those  hills.  The  farm  house  and  the 
orchard  in  the  foreground  are  as  natural  as  life. 
She  will  recognize  them  at  once." 

They  passed  out. 

"I  have  not  had  time  to  collect  much  in  the  way 
of  statuary.  I  work  a  little  at  that  art  myself.  Here 
is  an  unfinished  piece,  a  model  for  a  fountain." 

They  sat  on  a  bench  within  sight  of  the  falling 
water. 

"Tell  me  about  your  family." 

"I  have  a  wife  and  four  children  yet  in  the  spirit 
world.  It  is  not  long  as  we  count  time  since  I  left 
them,  and  they  are  soon  to  follow;  but  I  am  impa 
tient,  I  think.  Oh,  but  she  is  a  good  woman,  brother, 
good  and  true  and  beautiful;  and  my  children  are 
noble  ones — two  boys  and  two  girls — even  if  one  has 
been  wayward.  He  will  come  back  in  time.  Yes,  my 
wife  first  taught  me  the  knowledge  of  God,  in  the 
second  estate,  and  opened  to  me  the  beauties  of  our 
Fathers'  great  plan.  I  had  fallen  low,  and  was  in 


ADDED  UPON  207 

danger  of  going  lower,  when  she  came — God  sent 
her — and  with  her  pure,  strong  hand  drew  me  up 
from  the  mire,  God  bless  her."  And  the  speaker 
smiled  at  the  splashing  waters. 

"Then  in  earth-life  I  left  them  so  suddenly,  and 
she  struggled  bravely  on  to  the  end.  It  was  all  for 
the  best — we  know  that  now.  I  had  a  work  to  do 
in  the  spirit  world,  and  God  called  me  to  it.  I  did  it, 
and  was  accepted  of  the  Master.  We  all  met  in  the 
spirit  world,  and  there  continued  our  labors  of  love 
for  the  glory  of  God  .-...d  the  salvation  of  His  chil 
dren.  Then  my  time  came  to  pass  through  the  resur 
rection,  and  here  I  amA — Hark,  what  is  that?  Some 
one  is  calling." 

They  listened.  .From  the  house  came  a  voice, 
a  low,  sweet  voice,  calling. 

"Brother,  I  must  go,"  said  he  who  had  been 
talking.  "Someone  calls  my  name." 

He  disappeared  hurriedly  within  the  door-way; 
and  the  visitor  went  on  his  way. 


V. 


"And  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes;  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither 
shall  there  by  any  more  pain:  for  the  former  things  are  passed 
away. 

"He  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things;  and  I  will 
be  his  God  and  he  shall  be  my  son." — Rev.  21 :4-7. 

A  sound,  a  whispered  word  echoes  through  the 
air  and  enters  the  ear.  It  touches  the  chords  and 
finds  them  tuned  to  its  own  harmony.  It  plays  ten- 


208  ADDED  UPON 

derly  on  responsive  strings,  and  what  an  awakening 
is  within  that  soul!  What  rapture  in  the  blending, 
what  delight  in  the  union!  From  it  is  born  a  joy 
of  the  heavenly  world. 

A  sight,  a  glimpse  of  a  form — a  certain  form  or 
face;  the  rays  of  light  entering  the  eye  meet  with 
something  keenly  sympathetic,  and  the  soul  leaps 
in  ecstasy. 

A  touch,  a  gentle  pressure  of  the  hand;  the 
union  is  complete. 

What  was  that  voice  that  reached  him — a  voice 
love-laden,  full  to  over-flowing  from  the  regions  of 
the  past?  Ah,  what  sweetness  courses  through  his 
veins,  what  joy  leaps  in  his  heart! 

Within,  he  sees  her.  She  stands  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  open  door.  She 
does  not  move.  Her  beautiful  robe  of  shining  white 
clings  about  her  form  or  falls  in  graceful  folds  to 
the  floor.  Her  hair,  light  as  of  old,  now  glistens  like 
silken  threads.  Her  face  shines  with  the  indescriba 
ble  glow  of  immortality. 

She  sees  her  husband.  She  raises  her  arms,  and 
takes  a  step  forward.  She  smiles — such  a  smile! 

"Homan — Rupert." 

"Delsa— Signe." 

He  takes  her  in  his  arms.  He  kisses  her  and 
holds  her  to  his  breast 

Presently  strains  of  music  came  from  another 
room.  He  listened  as  if  surprised,  but  she  looked  up 
into  her  husband's  eyes  and  smiled.  The  music 
ceased  and  a  little  girl  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"May  I  come  in?"  she  asked. 


ADDED  UPON  209 

"Alice,  my  darling." 

She  runs  towards  them. 

"Papa,  papa,  oh,  how  glad  I  am!" 

He  lifted  her  up  and  she  threw  her  arms  about 
his  neck  and  kissed  him  again  and  again. 

"What  a  beautiful  place  this  is!"  she  said.  "0, 
mamma,  I  am  very  happy!" 

"Yes,  Alice,  we  are  all  happy — happy  beyond 
expression.  We  now  can  partly  understand  that  glo 
rious  truth  taught  us,  that  'spirit  and  element,  in 
separably  connected,  receiveth  a  fulness  of  joy.'  " 


Alice  was  playing  with  the  fishes  and  the  swans 
in  the  garden,  and  the  husband  and  wife  were  sit 
ting  by  an  open  window,  gazing  out  upon  the  city. 

"Brother  Volmer  has  not  been  to  see  us  yet," 
said  he.  "You  remember  he  was  our  brother  Sar- 
dus?" 

"I  remember  him  well,"  she  answered. 

"His  musical  talent  is  now  of  great  blessing  to 
himself  and  to  the  cause  of  God,  as  he  is  a  musical 
director  in  the  Temple.  He  understands  now  why 
he  lost  his  hearing  while  in  mortality,  and  he  praises 
God  for  his  then  seeming  misfortune." 

"Husband,"  said  she,  "I  am  thinking  again 
about  our  children.  How  long  will  it  be  before  we 
shall  receive  them  all?" 

"Not  long  now;  but  each  in  his  order.  Leave 
that  to  the  Lord." 

They  looked  out  at  Alice.  The  swans  were  eat 
ing  from  her  hand,  and  she  was  stroking  their  curved 
necks. 

"To  look  back,"  said  he,  "and  see  the  wonderful 


210  ADDED  UPON 

ways  through  which  the  Lord  has  brought  us  to  this 
perfection,  fills  my  heart  with  praise  to  Him.  Now 
we  are  beyond  the  power  of  death  and  the  evil  one. 
Now  the  pure,  life-giving  spirit  of  God  flows  in  our 
veins  instead  of  the  blood  of  mortality.  Now  we  can 
know  the  two  sides  of  things.  We  understand  the 
good,  because  we  have  been  in  contact  with  the  evil. 
Our  joy  is  perfect,  because  we  have  experienced 
pain  and  sorrow.  We  know  what  life  is,  eternal  life, 
because  we  have  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  death." 
"Yes,  Father  teaches  a  good  school." 

"And  we  have  learned  this  truth,"  said  she, 
"that  existence  itself  is  a  continuous  penalty  or  re 
ward.  The  children  of  God  reap  as  they  sow  from 
eternity  to  eternity." 

"Yes;  then  dwell  on  this  thought  for  a  moment: 
Our  lives  have  just  begun,  as  it  were.  We  have 
eternity  before  us,  and  we  are  only  now  equipped 
to  meet  it." 

"I  am  lost  in  the  thought.  But  tell  me  about 
this  thousand  years  of  earthly  peace  and  the  last 
great  change.  Husband,  I  am  a  pupil  now,  and  you 
the  teacher." 

"There  is  much  to  tell  in  contemplating  not  only 
the  realities  but  the  possibilities  of  the  future.  This 
earth  has  for  some  time  been  enjoying  its  Sabbath 
of  peace  and  rest.  He  who  rebelled  in  the  beginning 
and  fought  against  God  is  bound,  and  Christ  is  sole 
King  of  the  earth.  His  laws  go  to  the  ends  thereof, 
and  all  nations  must  obey  them.  The  Saints  are 
building  holy  places,  and  working  for  the  living  and 
the  dead.  No  graves  are  now  made,  as  the  bodies  of 


ADDED  UPON  211 

the  Saints  do  not  sleep  in  the  dust.  Thus  it  will  go 
on  until  the  thousand  years  are  ended.  Then  Satan 
will  be  loosed  for  a  little  season;  but  his  time  will  be 
short.  Then  comes  the  last  great  scene.  The  Lord 
will  finish  His  work.  In  the  clouds  of  heaven,  with 
power  and  great  glory,  He  will  be  seen  with  all  His 
angels.  The  mortal  Saints  yet  on  the  earth  will  be 
instantly  changed  and  caught  up  to  meet  Him.  The 
holy  cities  will  be  lifted  up.  Then  the  elements  will 
melt  with  fervent  heat.  The  earth  will  die  as  all 
things  must,  and  be  resurrected  in  perfection  and 
glory,  to  be  a  fit  abode,  eternally,  for  celestial  beings. 
All  things  will  become  new;  all  things  will  become 
celestial,  and  the  earth  will  take  its  place  among  the 
self-shining  stars  of  heaven.  Then  shall  we  receive 
our  eternal  inheritance,  with  our  children  and  our 
families.  Then  shall  we  be  in  possession  of  that 
better  and  more  enduring  substance  spoken  of  by  the 
prophets.  All  things  shall  be  ours,  'whether  life  or 
death,  or  things  present,  or  things  to  come;'  all  are 
ours,  and  we  are  Christ's  and  Christ  is  God's." 
"Why,  then  we  will  be  like  unto  God." 
"And  is  it  strange  that  children  should  become 
like  their  father?" 

"I  remember  now,"  said  she,  "as  distinctly  as 
though  it  were  yesterday,  what  Father  promised  us 
in  our  first  estate,  that  if  we  were  faithful,  we  should 
be  added  upon,  and  still  added  upon.  Do  you  re 
member  it?" 

"Distinctly,"  he  answered.  "It  was  to  be  'glory 
added  upon  our  heads  for  ever  and  ever.'  Father  is 
fulfilling  his  promise," 


212  ADDED  UPON 

Then  they  sat  still,  not  being  able  to  speak  their 
thoughts,  but  looked  out  towards  the  cloud-en 
circled  towers  of  the  city. 

Alice  came  running  in.  "The  people  are  com 
ing,"  she  said. 

They  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw  two  per 
sons  approach,  viewing  the  grounds  with  interest. 

"It  is  Henrik  and  Marie,"  exclaimed  Signe.  The 
newcomers  were  greeted  rapturously. 

"Come  in  and  see  the  results  of  my  husband's 
planning,"  said  Signe. 

The  visitors  were  led  through  the  house,  and 
shown  the  gardens  surrounding  it.  As  they  had 
been  separated  for  a  time  from  their  friends  they 
had  many  things  to  tell  each  other. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Henrik,  as  they  were  all 
sitting  by  the  playing  fountain,  "on  our  way  here, 
we  met  Rachel!" 

"Is  she  also  risen?"  asked  Signe.  "Oh,  why  did 
you  not  bring  her  with  you?" 

"Well,"  said  Henrik  with  a  smile,  "I  told  her 
where  we  were  going  and  asked  her  to  come  along, 
But  she  naturally  preferred  to  stay  with  her  hus 
band  who  was  taking  her  to  see  some  of  his  own 
people;  so  she  graciously  declined,  but  said  she  would 
visit  with  us  some  other  time." 

"Right  away?" 

"I  can't  say.  She  clung  pretty  closely  to  her 
husband.  They  are  a  splendid  pair.  I  am  glad,  for 
I  will  admit  that  I  once  thought  Rachel's  case  was 
hopeless." 


ADDED  UPON  213 

"We  couldn't  see  very  far,  could  we,  brother?" 
remarked  Rupert. 

"Our  faith  was  weak,  and  we  did  not  trust  the 
Lord  enough." 

"Yes;  I  used  to  wonder  how  the  Lord  would 
ever  straighten  out  the  mass  of  entanglements  that 
seemed  to  exist  in  the  world.  We  failed  to  compre 
hend  the  providences  of  the  Lord  because  we  could 
not  see  beyond  the  narrow  confines  of  the  world  in 
which  we  were  living;  we  could  see  only  a  small 
part  of  the  circle  of  eternity;  we  could  not  see  how 
that  visible  portion,  which  was  often  rough  and  un 
shapely,  could  fit  into  anything  beautiful;  but  now 
our  vision  is  extended,  and  we  have  a  larger,  and 
therefore,  a  more  correct  view." 

"And  this  I  have  found,"  said  Henrik,  smiling 
at  Signe  and  Marie  as  with  arms  around  each  other, 
they  sauntered  down  the  garden  path,  "I  have  found 
that  our  work  never  ends.  While  in  earth-life  my 
mission  was  to  seek  after  those  of  my  people  who 
had  gone  before  me,  and  to  do  a  work  of  salvation 
for  them  in  the  temples.  In  the  spirit  world,  I  con 
tinued  my  work  preaching  to  my  fellowmen,  and 
preparing  them  to  receive  that  which  was  and  is 
being  done  for  them  by  others.  And  now,  I  find, 
that  I  am  busier  than  ever.  We  are  teachers,  direct 
ors,  leaders,  judges,  and  our  field  is  all  the  earth." 
"Yes,"  replied  Rupert,  "I  attended  the  laying 
of  the  corner-stone  of  the  one-hundredth  temple  the 
other  day;  and  we  have  only  just  begun.  The  time, 
talent,  wealth,  and  energy  that  formerly  went  to  the 
enriching  of  a  few  and  that  was  spent  to  build  and 


214  ADDED  UPON 

sustain  armies  and  navies,  now  are  directed  to  the 
building  of  temples  and  the  carrying  on  the  work  in 
them.  I  used  to  wonder  how  the  needed  temple  work 
could  ever  be  done  for  the  millions  of  earth's  inhab 
itants,  but  now  I  can  see  how  simple  it  is.  Tens  of 
thousands  of  Saints,  in  thousands  of  temples,  in  a 
thousand  years  of  millenium  can  accomplish  it. 
Every  son  and  daughter  of  Adam  must  have  a 
chance;  every  tangled  thread  must  be  straightened 
out;  every  broken  link  must  be  welded;  every  wrong 
must  be  righted;  every  created  thing  that  fills  the 
measure  of  its  creation  must  be  perfected; — all 
this  must  be  before  the  'winding-up  scene'  comes. 
All  this  can  be  accomplished,  for  now  we  have  every 
force  working  to  that  end.  The  earth  is  yet  teeming 
with  our  brothers  and  sisters  in  mortality;  there  is 
continual  communication  between  the  spirit  world 
and  this  world,  and  then  here  are  we,  with  our  kind ; 
we  have  passed  through  the  earth-life,  through  the 
spirit  world,  through  the  resurrection — and  we,  as 
you  said,  are  busier  than  ever,  because  with  our 
added  knowledge  and  wider  view  comes  greater 
power.  Our  services  are  needed  everywhere.  And 
what  a  blessed  privilege  we  have  in  thus  being  able 
to  help  the  Lord  in  the  salvation  of  His  children  and 
the  hastening  to  its  destined  end  of  celestial  glory 
this  world  of  ours." 

Alice  was  playing  with  some  birds,  which  she 
seemed  to  have  well  trained,  as  they  were  flying  back 
and  forth  from  her  hand  to  the  bushes.  The  two 
women  now  came  back  along  the  path,  stopping  now 


ADDED  UPON  215 

and  then  to  listen  to  a  bird  or  to  look  at  a  flower. 
They  joined  Rupert  and  Henrik. 

"I  have  quite  a  lot  of  names  from  the  spirit 
world  to  bring  to  the  Temple  today,"  said  Rupert, 
"among  them  fifteen  couples  to  be  made  husband 
and  wife." 

"I  have  heard  it  said,"  remarked  Marie,  "that 
in  heaven  there  is  neither  marrying  nor  giving  in 
marriage." 

"Neither  is  there,"  answered  Rupert,  any  more 
than  there  is  baptism  for  the  remission  of  sins. 
Neither  this  world  nor  the  world  of  spirits,  where 
live  the  contracting  parties,  is  heaven." 

"Isn't  this  heaven?"  asked  Marie,  looking 
around  on  the  beauty  with  which  she  was  sur 
rounded. 

"As  far  as  we  resurrected  beings  are  con 
cerned,"  replied  Rupert,  "we  have  heaven  wherever 
we  go;  but  this  earth  is  only  being  prepared  for  its 
heavenly  or  celestial  state.  Until  that  is  finished, 
there  shall  be  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage." 

"I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Signe;  for  there  is — " 

She  was  interrupted  by  Alice,  who  came  in  with 
the  announcement  that  others  were  coming  up  to  the 
house.  Henrik  and  Marie  were  greeted  for  the  first 
time  by  visitors  who  continued  to  gather.  For  some 
time,  white-clothed  persons  had  been  directing  their 
steps  towards  the  Temple.  Now  they  were  hurrying. 

"It  is  time  to  go,"  said  Rupert. 

In  a  few  moments  they  had  changed  their  cloth 
ing,  and  with  the  speed  of  thought,  they  were  within 
the  Temple  grounds.  Entering,  they  took  their 


216  ADDED  UPON 

places.  Volmer  passed,  and  he  paused  to  speak  to 
them.  Soon  the  hall  was  filled. 

The  Lord  of  Life  and  Light  was  there,  and  lent 
of  His  light  to  the  scene. 

Brilliancy  pervaded  everything,  shone  from 
everything.  It  was  not  the  sun,  there  being  no  daz 
zle;  it  was  not  the  moon,  but  a  clearness  as  of  noon 
day.  The  whole  Temple  shed  forth  a  lustre  as  if  it 
were  built  of  some  celestial  substance.  The  marble, 
the  precious  stones,  the  gold,  seemed  changed  into 
light — light,  pure,  calm,  and  consolidated  into  form. 
It  radiated  from  the  throne,  and  from  Him  who  sat 
upon  it.  "Around  His  head  was  as  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow,  and  under  His  feet  was  a  paved  work  of 
pure  gold  in  color  like  amber." 

Hark!  the  music!  How  it  fills  the  Temple,  how 
it  thrills  the  souls  assembled.  A  thousand  instru 
ments  blend  in  exquisite  harmony,  ten  thousand 
voices  join  in  the  song: 

"The  earth  hath  travailed  and  brought  forth  her  strength, 
And  truth  is  established  in  her  bowels; 
And  the  heavens  have  smiled  upon  her; 
And  she  is  clothed  with  the  glory  of  her  God; 
For  He  stands  in  the  midst  of  His  people. 
Glory,  and  honor,  and  power,  and  might 
Be  ascribed  to  our  God;  for  He  is  full  of  mercy, 
Justice,  grace,  and  truth,  and  peace, 
Forever  and  ever,  Amen." 


PART  FIFTH 


The  rise  of  man  is  endless.   Be  in  hope. 
All  stars  are  gathered  in  his  horoscope. 
The  brute  man  of  the  planet,  he  will  pass, 
Blown  out  like  forms  of  vapor  on  a  glass. 
And  from  this  quaking  pulp  of  life  will  rise 
The  superman,  child  of  the  higher  skies. 
Immortal,  he  will  break  the  ancient  bars, 
Laugh  and  reach  out  his  hands  among  the  stare. 

— Edwin  Markham 


L. 


Old  things  have  passed  away,  all  now  are  new; 

Its  measure  of  creation  Earth  has  filled; 

The  law  of  a  celestial  kingdom  it 

Has  kept,  transgressed  not  the  law; 

Yea,  notwithstanding  it  has  died,  it  has 

Been  quickened  once  again;  and  it  abides 

The  power  by  which  that  quick'ning  has  been  done 

Wherefore,  it  now  is  sanctified  from  all 

Unrighteousness,  and  crowned  with  glory,  e'en 

The  presence  of  the  Father  and  the  Son. 

Immortal  Earth  on  wings  of  glory  rolls, 
Shines  like  unto  a  crystal  sea  of  glass 
And  fire,  whereon  all  things  are  manifest: 
Past,  present,  future, — all  are  clear  to  those 
Who  live  upon  this  glorious  orb  of  God. 

Upon  this  globe,  God's  children  glorified 
Are  no  more  strangers,  wand'ring  to  and  fro 
As  weary  pilgrims;  now  they  have  received 
Possessions  everlasting  on  the  Earth — 
A  portion  of  a  glorified  domain 
On  which  to  build  and  multiply  and  spread — 
A  part  of  Earth  to  call  always  their  own. 
Eternal  mansions  may  they  now  erect; 


220  ADDED  UPON 

Make  them  of  whatsoe'er  their  hearts'  desire; 
For  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones  and  woods, 
And  fabrics  rare,  and  stuffs  of  every  hue, 
All  plentiful  in  Nature's  store-house  lie, 
For  them  to  freely  draw  upon  and  use. 
Masters  of  all  the  elements  are  they; 
And  Nature's  forces  are  at  their  command. 

The  man  and  woman,  in  the  Lord  made  one, 

Eternally  are  wedded  man  and  wife. 

These  now  together  make  their  plans,  and  build 

A  lovely,  spacious  home  wherein  to  dwell, 

A  place  for  work,  for  rest,  for  new-found  joys, 

A  peaceful  habitation,  one  beyond 

The  power  of  evil  ever  to  destroy. 


II 


In  their  primeval  childhood — first  estate — 
These  once  had  lived  within  their  Father's  home. 
Out  from  that  home  they  had  been  sent  to  Earth 
To  have  their  spirit  bodies  clothed  upon 
With  element,  to  come  in  contact  with 
Conditions  which  were  needful  for  their  growth, 
And  learn  the  lessons  of  mortality. 
There  they  had  overcome  temptation's  wiles, 
There  had  obeyed  the  gospel  of  their  Lord 
And  worked  out  their  salvation  by  its  power. 

These  two  had  met  and  mated,  had  fulfilled 

The  first  great  law:  "Give  bodies  clean  and  strong 


ADDED  UPON  221 

To  Father's  spirit-children  from  above." 

The  time  allotted  they  had  lived  on  Earth, 

Had  died  the  mortal  death,  had  gone  into 

The  spirit  world;  from  there  they  had  come  forth 

With  resurrected  bodies  from  the  grave. 

Thus  they  had  kept  their  first  and  second  estates, 

And  now  were  counted  worthy  to  receive 

Their  portion  'mong  the  exalted  ones  of  God. 


III. 


Celestial  man  and  woman  now  do  live 

The  perfect  life;  for  every  faculty 

Of  heart  and  brain  is  put  to  highest  use. 

The  appetites  and  passions  purged  are 

From  dross  that  fallen  nature  with  them  mixed. 

The  will  is  master  now,  and  every  sense 

Is  under  absolute  control,  and  gives 

Perfected  service  to  perfected  souls. 

These  two  have  come  into  their  very  own. 

They  walk  by  sight;  and  yet  the  eye  of  faith 

Sweeps  out  to  future  time  and  distant  space 

And  leads  them  on  and  on.    They  lay  their  plans 

And  execute  these  plans  to  perfectness. 

Eternal  Glory-land  is  their  abode, 

So  beautifully  clothed  in  Nature's  best, 

And  basking  in  the  pleasing  smile  of  God; 

No  need  of  light  of  sun  or  moon  or  stars; 

The  glory  of  the  Father  and  the  Son 

Eclipses  all  such  lights  of  lesser  ray. 


222  ADDED  UPON 

Although  with  godlike  powers  they  rule  and  reign, 

Yet  are  they  Father's  children,  and  to  Him 

All  loving  honor  and  obedience  give. 

And  then  that  Elder  Brother  who  has  done 

So  much  for  all,  He  also  here  abides, — 

The  Savior  of  the  world  and  souls  of  men, 

The  Lord  of  lords,  the  King  of  all  the  Earth, 

Yet  ever-present  Comforter  and  Friend. 


IV. 


And  now  they  learn  the  things  they  could  not  know 

On  mortal  earth.    They  learn  the  secrets  of 

All  things  that  are  in  space  above,  or  in 

The  Earth  beneath:  the  elements  which  form 

The  air  that  man  did  breathe,  and  where  obtained, 

And  how  composed.    They  learn  of  primal  rocks, 

Foundations  of  the  new-formed  worlds  in  space, 

And  how  these  worlds  evolve  into  abodes 

For  man.    The  source  of  light  and  heat  and  power 

They  find,  and  grasp  the  laws  by  which  they  may 

Be  rightly  used  and  perfectly  controlled. 

And  then,  most  precious  gift!  they  learn  of  life: 

What   makes  the   grass   to   grow,   what   gives   the 

flowers 

Their  fragrance  and  their  many-colored  hues. 
They  comprehend  all  life  in  moving  forms, — 
In  worm,  in  insect,  fish,  and  bird,  and  beast; 
And  knowing  this,  they  have  the  power  to  draw 
Life  from  its  store-house,  and  to  make  it  serve 
The  highest  good  in  never-ending  ways. 


ADDED  UPON  223 


V. 


The  truth  has  made  these  holy  beings  free. 
They  having  overcome  all  evil  powers, 
Unfettered  now  they  are  and  free  to  go 
Where'er  they  wish  within  the  heavenly  spheres. 
They're  not  alone  on  this  perfected  world, 
Here  other  children  of  the  Father  dwell, 
Who  also  have  obeyed  celestial  law. 
All  these  are  of  the  Father's  household,  and 
Are  numbered  with  the  just  and  true,  of  whom 
'Tis  written,  "They  are  God's,"  and  they  shall  dwell 
Forever  in  the  presence  of  their  God. 

What  bliss  to  mingle  with  such  company! 
To  taste  the  joys  of  friendships  perfected, 
And  feel  to  fulness  that  sweet  brother-love 
Which  binds  in  one  the  noble  race  of  Gods! 

And  other  worlds  may  now  be  visited; 
For  end  there's  none  to  matter  and  to  space. 
Infinitude  holds  kingdoms,  great  and  small, — 
Worlds  upon  worlds,  redeemed  and  glorified, 
And  peopled  with  the  children  of  our  God, 
Who  also  have  evolved  from  lower  things. 
What  opening  visions  here  for  knowledge  rare! 
What  sciences,  what  laws,  what  history! 
What  stories  of  God's  love  in  other  worlds! 
Exhaustless  themes  for  poets'  sweetest  songs; 
For  painters,  sculptors,  every  science,  art 
Has  never-ending  fields  of  pure  delight. 


15 


224  ADDED  UPON 

To  them  "the  universe  its  incense  brings" — 
Distilled  from  all  the  sweetness  of  the  spheres. 


VI. 


Earth's  loveliest  flow'r,  the  love'tween  man  and  wife 

Transplanted  is  to  this  most  holy  sphere. 

Through  all  the  toiling  years  of  earth-life,  it 

Had  grown;  and  now,  instead  of  dying  with 

The  mortal  death,  its  roots  are  firmly  fixed 

In  the  eternal  soil  of  Glory-land. 

And  blessed  man!  now  at  his  side  there  stands 

A  woman,  one  of  heaven's  queens,  a  wife, 

A  mother  to  his  children  of  the  Earth, 

And  yet  to  be  a  mother  of  a  race. 

Her  beauty  rare  surpasses  power  of  words. 

Her  purity,  her  sweetly  gentle  ways 

Rest  as  a  crown  of  glory  on  her  brow. 

Her  love  transcendent  fills  his  heart  with  joy, 

And  now  he  fully  realizes  that 

"The  woman  is  the  glory  of  the  man." 

Here  in  thy  Home,  0  Woman  all  divine, 
Thy  measure  of  creation  thou  doest  fill! 
Intelligences  come  from  out  the  womb 
Of  Time,  into  thine  own;  thence  are  they  born 
With  spirit  bodies,  to  thy  loving  care. 
Now  thou  art  Mother,  and  doest  know  in  full 
A  mother's  joy — a  joy  untinged  by  pain, 
And  with  thy  Husband  thou  hast  now  become 
Creator,  fellow  worker  with  thy  Lord. 


ADDED  UPON  225 

Celestial  Father,  Mother  at  the  head 

Of  parentage  they  stand,  the  perfect  type 

Of  that  eternal  principle  of  sex 

Found  in  all  nature,  making  possible 

For  every  living  thing  to  multiply 

And  bring  increase  of  being  of  its  kind. 

In  this  celestial  world,  the  fittest  have 

Survived.    To  them  alone  the  pow'r  is  given 

To  propagate  their  kind.    'Twas  wisely  planned. 

The  race  of  Gods  must  not  deteriorate. 

Thus  everlasting  increase  is  denied 

To  those  who  have  not  reached  perfection's  plane. 

Herein  is  justice,  wisdom  all-divine, 

That  every  child  born  into  spirit  world 

Has  perfect  parentage,  thus  equal  chance 

Is  given  all  to  reach  the  highest  goal, 

And  win  the  race  which  runs  up  through  the  worlds. 

And  children  fill  the  household  of  these  Two — 
And  children  bring  perpetual  youth,  renew 
The  tender  sentiments,  and  firmly  knit 
The  heart  of  Father,  Mother  close  in  one. 
Thus  do  they  work,  and  thus  they  follow  in 
The  footsteps  of  their  Father;  and  they  spread 
Out  o'er  the  land  of  their  inheritance. 
Masters  of  all,  joint  owners  of  the  spheres, 
Eternal  increase  of  eternal  lives 
Is  theirs;  and  this  their  work  and  glory  is 
To  bring  to  pass  the  immortality 
And  life  eternal  to  the  race  of  men. 


226  ADDED  UPON 

VII. 

Time  passes  as  an  ever-flowing  stream. 

The  many  mansions  teem  with  offspring  fair, — 

The  spirit  children  of  this  heavenly  world. 

Varied  are  they,  as  human  beings  are 

In  form,  in  likes,  in  capabilities. 

Here  love,  combined  with  justice,  rules; 

Here   truth   is   taught,    the   right   and    wrong    are 

shown; 

Yet  agency  is  given  all,  and  they 
May  choose  the  way  selected  by  desire. 
Thus  some  more  faithful  are  than  others,  and 
Advance  more  rapidly  along  the  great 
Highway  that  leads  among  the  shining  stars. 

Time  passes, — and  the  time  has  fully  come 
When  spirits  must  be  clothed  upon  with  flesh, 
Must  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  their  Sire, 
Must  go  to  mortal  earth  and  there  work  out 
Their  soul's  salvation  in  the  self-same  way 
That  all  perfected  beings  once  have  done. 

Far  out  in  space  where  there  is  ample  room 

And  where  primeval  element  abounds, 

This  Father  has  been  working,  and  still  works, 

Fashioning  a  world  on  which  to  place 

His  children.    Without  proper  form,  and  void, 

In  the  beginning,  this  new  world  has  passed 

From  one  stage  to  another,  until  now 

It  rolls  in  space,  an  orb  in  beauty  clad, 

A  world  on  which  a  human  race  may  dwell. 


ADDED  UPON  227 

This  Father  to  his  children  thus  doth  speak: 

"The  time  has  come  for  you  to  leave  this  home — 

This  first  estate,  and  take  another  step 

Along  progression's  path.     A  new-formed  world 

Is  ready  to  receive  you,  and  to  clothe 

You  in  another  body.    You  will  then 

Learn  many  things  you  cannot  here  receive. 

A  veil  will  then  be  drawn  before  your  eyes 

That  you  will  be  unable  to  look  back 

To  us.    Alone  you'll  have  to  stand;  be  tried 

To  see  if  faithful  you  will  still  remain. 

There's  darkness  in  that  world;  and  sin  will  come 

And  pain  and  suffering  such  as  now  you  know 

Not  of.    But  these  will  only  clearly  show 

How  good  is  righteousness,  and  how  much  more 

To  be  desired  the  light  than  darkness  is. 

Yet,  you  shall  not  be  wholly  left  alone; 

My  ministering  angels  shall  keep  watch, 

And  near  you  all  the  time  my  power  shall  be, 

To  help  you  in  your  direst  hours  of  need. 

My  sons  and  daughters,  as  you  now  do  live 

Within  your  Father's  ever-watchful  care, 

Know  this  that  always  shall  his  loving  arm 

Extended  be  to  you;  the  Father-heart 

And   Mother-heart  eternally   do   yearn 

And  feel  for  you  in  sorrow  or  in  pain. 

Where'er  you  are,  you're  still  within  my  reach. 

If  you'll  but  turn  to  me,  I'll  hear  your  cries 

And  answer  you  in  my  good  time  and  place. 

Go  forth  as  you  are  called,  the  lessons  learn 

Of  earthly  school;  fear  only  sin;  abide 

By  law,  nor  seek  to  be  a  law  unto 


228  ADDED  UPON 

Yourselves,  for  by  eternal  law  the  worlds 

Are  formed,  redeemed,  and  brought  to  perfectness, 

Together  with  all  flesh  which  on  them  live. 

Go  forth.    Be  worthy  to  come  back  again 

And  be  partakers  of  all  heights  and  depths, 

Things  present,  things  to  come,  yea,  life  or  death, 

And  it  shall  be  my  pleasure  to  bestow 

Upon  you  all  there  is  eternally." 

Joy  fills  this  Father's  children,  and  with  one 
United  voice  of  gladness  do  they  sing: 
"Thanks,  Father,  kind  and  good  for  what  you've 

done; 

Thanks  for  the  added  blessings  which  you  bring. 
O  glorious,  wond'rous  truth  that  we  have  found : 
The  course  of  Gods'  is  one  eternal  round!" 


THE  END 


IH  SH  u[HERN  REGIOfWL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

A  A      000011  957  8 


